


lemon candies

by Yilena



Series: dead girl walking [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Horror, Minor Character Death, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, Slow Burn, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27307066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: Two years into a zombie apocalypse, Marinette ends up falling for the man that she'd almost killed. Adrien's pretty, not the best at fighting, and assumes that she's dating his sister who she's been travelling with for the past year. AU.(adrien falls in love with the girl that kicked his ass.)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Series: dead girl walking [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993831
Comments: 13
Kudos: 124





	lemon candies

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the “treat” halloween fic of the two this year. i wanted to rewrite the original from 2017 and add some more... substance to it? a lot of my old writing is more telling instead of showing, so i developed marinette and chloé's relationship until i almost turned this into a chloé/mari fic because they mesh _so well_. 
> 
> the plot isn't exactly the same, there's no major character deaths, and there's a happy ending at the end!! i really wanted to do something happier while basing it in the apocalypse still.
> 
>  **warnings** for: blood, violence, and murder (both human and zombie).

_Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

“You're hurting me,” Marinette complained, wincing as her hair was tugged again. “I'm fragile, okay? I need to be treated with care.”

“If you don't stop moving, I'll stab you,” Chloé told her seriously, snipping off another chunk of hair haphazardly. “It's not my fault these scissors are blunt as fuck.”

She huffed. “It's better than using a knife.”

“It was good with the nail clippers last time,” Chloé said, laughing at the memory. “Even if it took forever and looked _awful_.”

“Better than being grabbed,” Marinette retorted, defensive. “I don't see your long hair doing you any favours out here.”

That earned her a swat on the back of her head.

“What?” she exclaimed. “It's not like I'm wrong.”

“Yeah, but I don't like you being right,” Chloé muttered, taking ahold of the next chunk of hair with less force. “How's this feel? Short enough for you?”

She touched her hair, no longer grimacing at how greasy it felt. The oil on her fingertips afterwards was something she'd become familiar with, though the short hair had taken longer to become accustomed to.

“Yeah,” she said, running her fingers through it. “Seems good.”

Chloé tutted. “Hang on, it's not even—”

There was a familiar sound.

With a sigh, Marinette pointed out, “It's your turn.”

Chloé wasn't happy about it.

Marinette passed her her knife, exchanging it for the scissors before brushing the cut bits of hair off of her, trying to get rid of the itchy feeling from her neck. It wasn't optimal to waste water to try and get rid of it, and it was too dark to go to the nearby stream in an attempt to get clean.

It was only a few minutes before Chloé came back, fresh blood smeared on her trousers from where she'd wiped her hand.

Marinette took the knife back and put it in the holster on her hip.

“Braid my hair again,” Chloé demanded.

It was never a question any more.

“You could always learn,” she replied, already getting up to let Chloé sit on the stool. “It's not like it's hard. And we have, like, all the time in the world to get good at weird shit.”

Chloé snorted. “You're better than me.”

“At only this, right?” she quipped. “You'd never admit it for anything else.”

“You've got magic hands,” Chloé agreed, trying not to laugh. “You weren't a massage therapist before, were you?”

“Nice try, but no,” Marinette rejected, confused. “Your guesses are getting more and more absurd, you know? You're aiming too high. I wasn't anything respectable that took a lot of studying to be accepted into.”

Chloé tutted. “You're only saying that to throw me off.”

She tugged Chloé's old braids out, the worn out hairbands stretched and almost falling apart. The matted hair was holding the slight curl well, but the grease made it look worse than ever when it was combed out with her fingers.

Marinette was sure hers was in much the same state.

“I'm really not,” she said. “You just think too much of me.”

“I think you're shit,” Chloé corrected.

“The shit, apparently,” she joked.

Chloé stayed silent.

Marinette laughed.

The night was lonely when there was no one to talk to. Chloé was beside her in the tent, huddled up in the blankets and sleeping restlessly. Marinette was sat outside with another jacket on, a scented candle for a source of light, and she was stubbornly staying awake by trying to solve a rubik's cube.

It was a long time ago that she found out the best way to stay up was to be occupied; doing something with her hands was better than thinking, as those daydreams could turn into her nodding off when she was supposed to be on watch.

The trees shielded her from the rain.

When the sun was up, she cautiously woke Chloé up. It involved being a fair distance away so she wouldn't get whacked in the face.

They loaded their bicycles carefully. Marinette tied a rope around her belongings in the basket at the front, making sure nothing would fall out if things got rough, before using a belt to loop another bag above the back wheel.

Chloé copied her with ease.

“Which direction?” Marinette asked, sat on the seat with one foot down on the ground to stay upright. “I think there's a town nearby? But I can't remember which way we came from before, so...”

Chloé proposed, “Want to flip for it?”

“We have no money,” she mused.

With a grin, Chloé suggested, “Rock paper scissors?”

Chloé won.

They went right, further through the woods. The roots of trees stood out from the ground, making it awkward to ride through after a while, so they dismounted and walked, tugging their bicycles alongside them. Marinette made a point of watching where she was walking, leading them both and avoiding where a path wasn't clear.

It was hard to tell when everything was so overgrown.

And yet, there was a faint path where grass wasn't growing; the branches and plants were overtaking it slightly, the sharp parts of the plants unable to get through the denim she was wearing.

She tripped over a pebble.

Chloé had laughed loudly before trying to muffle the noise with her hand.

They both tensed, waiting to see whether anything was coming out from the bushes.

Then, Marinette relaxed. “I think we're safe.”

“Unless some fucker was camping and died out here,” Chloé muttered, looking at their surroundings in distrust. “I wouldn't put it past them. Loads of people got into faking camping to try and take cute pictures.”

“If it was fake, why would they be out here?” she questioned.

“Because they got bit for being stupid?” Chloé suggested. “Maybe they didn't see the reports, I don't know. It's possible.”

She snorted. “It's possible we'd run into sexy zombies?”

Chloé nodded. “Yes.”

“That'll be an experience,” she remarked, a bit amused by the thought. “We did see one in a swimsuit before, right?”

“A one-piece doesn't count as sexy.”

She snickered. “Sorry, I forgot you're the fashion police.”

Chloé looked down at her outfit in disgust. “Not like it matters any more.”

“I, for one, think you look very cute,” Marinette quipped. “Like a dirty lesbian.”

Chloé glowered at her. “That's such a compliment, thank you.”

“You just need a short-sleeved shirt to top it all off,” she mused. “I think we'll find one eventually. The more outrageous the print, the better.”

The muttered response to that was, “I don't need my outfits to announce my sexuality, thanks.”

“Are you sure?” she questioned, brushing her short hair away from her face. “Getting the point across sooner is good nowadays. No need for unnecessary rejections.”

Chloé squinted. “The last people we met tried to kill us.”

There was no urgency to their movements. Marinette paused when she wanted to catch her breath, observing the area and trying get a sense of where they were before giving up. Chloé was the one to say that they should stop for the day when they'd found a road going into a nearby town.

It would be stupid to go there during the night.

So, they set up camp under the cover of the trees, trekking back in and subtly marking their way on the trunks of the tree by cutting a line that wouldn't look out of place to anyone else. It was important to try and conceal their presence, though the marks left from the tires of their bicycles were too much effort to cover up completely.

Chloé shoved her into the tent, telling her to sleep.

Marinette didn't need to be told twice.

She handed over her rubik's cube and other toys that she'd smuggled out of children's rooms along the way. As long as they were small and didn't make any noise, it was handy to have around to keep them awake.

Chloé liked building blocks the best.

It was a little cute.

“Wake me up, yeah?” she said, covering her yawn with her hand.

Chloé glared. “I've got this.”

That hadn't filled her with any confidence before. Chloé had stubbornly wanted to help out and prove her worth when they'd teamed up originally, though it had taken a while for her to actually succeed.

Marinette refused to baby her, but that didn't mean she was immediately trusting.

And yet, seeing Chloé there with dirty hair and multiple knives attached to her body, she wasn't too scared to sleep.

“I'm not saying you don't,” Marinette assured her, not trying to hide her smile. “But two against one is always better, so...”

“I'll wake you up if I hear anything,” Chloé grumpily gave in.

She gave her a thumbs up.

Chloé glared more.

It was a good relationship.

-x-

There wasn't anyone alive in the town.

Marinette took the front, deciding to tackle the corpse that was lurking in a front garden with only the top half of its body in tact. It could only crawl, dirty and rotten nails digging into the ground as it groaned and became aware of her presence from her clicking her tongue.

She stabbed it through the eye with ease.

Chloé no longer threw up at such a thing.

Without a word, Chloé had her weapon ready, standing a short distance to her side as they approached the front door. It was unlocked, allowing them access to the home that was filled with the same rotten smell that the rest of the undead gave off.

After giving her a pointed look, Marinette knocked on the wall, loud enough to be heard throughout the whole home.

A corpse staggered out of the end of the hallway. The face was smashed in, an eye completely missing and exposing the decaying flesh that was usually hidden behind damp-looking skin. It had been so long since the original outbreak that those that had been turned in the beginning were able to be recognised by their appearance.

She kicked below the knee, making it fall before repeating the same killing blow as before with her knife. It was easy, quick, and didn't involve her swinging around any large and heavy weapon that was a hassle to carry.

Chloé knocked on the wall that time.

It was only when they went into the bedrooms to loot that they found out the smell was coming from the bathroom. The water had long since turned dark with blood and grime, the bathtub stained where it had originally been up to before, and the state of the body was much worse due to being half-submerged for over a year.

Marinette almost gagged.

There was no need to put it down when the person had been smart enough to destroy their brain as they died.

At least, they succeeded if they knew about that beforehand.

Marinette traded her shirt for a new one. It was loose, had long since lost the smell of fabric softener, but it was so much better than the stained one she'd been stuck with for weeks.

She plucked a treasure to take to Chloé from the dresser, ignoring the rest of the accessories there.

“Chlo,” she called out, peeking into the master bedroom.

There were no bodies in there.

Chloé was trying to cut off the ends of a pair of jeans with her blunt scissors. They were barely doing anything to the fabric.

“Why are you cutting them?” Marinette asked. “They'd fit you.”

“But not you,” Chloé pointed out. “You need a new pair.”

She looked down at what she was wearing. “I do?”

“You've got a rip,” Chloé replied, lifting her head up smugly. “That's not safe, is it? And the waist isn't too far off your size, so you can use your belt to make it work.”

“Anything for you?” she questioned, opening up the wardrobe and peering inside.

“Nothing thick enough,” Chloé said. “And the rest either too big or has bits missing because it's trying to be sexy. Not exactly the outfit I want to wear while fighting for my life, thanks.”

Marinette sighed dramatically. “No short-sleeved shirts.”

The blunt scissors were thrown at her.

She laughed, jumping to the side to dodge.

“Give me them back,” Chloé demanded, holding her hand out and wiggling her fingers. “I think I've almost got this.”

Marinette bowed as she handed them over, making a show of it.

It was worth it to hear Chloé laugh.

That small sound made her feel better about it all; it was a comfort that was reserved for when they were alone. Whether it was from other humans or the dead that were walking by, they stayed quiet and tried to communicate through hand gestures and facial expressions.

The trust between them had to be built.

And so, it had gotten to the point that having scissors thrown at her didn't make her afraid; rather, Marinette was happy that Chloé was so comfortable to do that to her as a joke.

“I got you something,” Marinette happily told her, pushing her sleeve up with a flourish. “I think it's perfect for you.”

Chloé glared at it.

“No?” she questioned, holding it up until her wrist was almost pressing against Chloé's nose. “I spent a lot of time picking this out, okay. It's our best friend bracelet.”

“It's a hairband,” Chloé pointed out.

Marinette made a disapproving noise. “Same thing.”

“If it's a best friend thing, you'd have one, too.”

She beamed. “I have short hair.”

Chloé sighed, making a point of reluctantly taking it and placing it around her wrist for safekeeping. Although it was in much better condition than the ones in her hair, it wouldn't be used until the others snapped.

Marinette shimmied out of her jeans, happily putting on the new ones.

They were loose around her, especially around the ankles.

“It's the style,” Chloé insisted.

She squinted. “Wouldn't it be out of season now?”

“Bitch, I don't even know what season it is,” Chloé muttered, kneeling down to roll up Marinette's jeans at the bottoms and making it so they sat around her laces instead of far enough down to get wet from the grass. “There, that's fine.”

Marinette pretended to wipe a tear. “You do care about me.”

Chloé raised her middle finger.

She blew a kiss back.

The medicine they found in the cabinet was distributed equally between a bag each—a precaution in case anything happened to one of them. It had been awkward when their only bag with food in it had fallen down into the river in the middle of winter.

Wisely, they hadn't jumped in after it.

The looting continued until it was dark outside. After finding a home that was secure—meaning it had locks that hadn't been busted and they could block off any other entrances—they stayed the night with Marinette keeping watch for the first few hours before swapping off.

It was decided between them that the luxury of sleeping in a home was a dangerous one. The outside was more familiar at that point, and neither of them was comfortable enough to be sleep-deprived and stay guard the whole night.

Their system was safe, worked well, and never caused any problems between them.

Chloé nudged her awake in the morning, splitting out their portion of food for the morning.

The stale biscuits from the cupboards tasted wonderful.

Chloé bemoaned the lattes that she used to drink before going to work in the morning.

Marinette laughed, calling her spoiled.

“Did someone get you coffee, then?” Chloé questioned. Then, she carried on before waiting for a response. “I bet you did. Maybe you had someone at your beck and call.”

Marinette wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “This your new guess for my job?”

“Maybe,” Chloé mused, putting her hand to her chin and looking at her with a critical glance. “If I had a boss that looked like you, I wouldn't mind following some of your orders.”

She snorted. “Are you hitting on me?”

Chloé raised her eyebrows with a smile. “Are you interested?”

“You smell horrible,” she bluntly replied.

Chloé wrestled her into a tight hug, making it so there was no space between them.

They smelled as horrible as each other.

As it turned out, spraying any leftover air freshener or perfume that they came across only made it worse when it was mixed in with the smell of their sweat. There was that underlining tang that couldn't be covered—the same as if they were to put deodorant on constantly without washing first.

“How did anyone put up with you?” Marinette complained.

Chloé rubbed their cheeks together. “Whatever do you mean? I'm a delight.”

“I'd rather punch you, thanks,” she muttered.

There was no threat in Chloé's response. “Break my nose again and I'll stab you.”

“It healed fine!” she exclaimed, pulling away to tap the end of Chloé's nose. “There's not even a bump, that's how good I am.”

“Good at what?” Chloé questioned, narrowing her eyes. “Punching in a way that doesn't disfigure me?”

“To be fair, I thought you were trying to kill me—”

Chloé scoffed. “Paranoid.”

“And I have every reason to be,” she stubbornly defended, crossing her arms. “What would you do? If you had someone _following_ you?”

“I'd defend myself, of course,” Chloé gloated.

Marinette was equally as smug. “Yeah, and who taught you that?”

Chloé glossed over that, ignoring it. “You're too young to be a teacher, right? You'd still be in school studying. Unless there's internships for schools? I don't know a thing. I didn't even go to university, Marinette. I'm clueless for education because I'm beautiful.”

She squinted. “I don't think it's because you're beautiful.”

“No, it literally is,” Chloé insisted, gesturing wildly to her face. “Does this look like I belong in a classroom rotting away with other students? Absolutely not.”

Marinette wasn't convinced. “That's your excuse for being an idiot?”

“We can't have it all,” Chloé proclaimed, putting her hand over her heart in a show of theatrics. “I traded away knowing maths for being beautiful.”

“You should know maths before university—”

“Hush,” Chloé said, interrupting her sternly. “I think I'd know more about being hot than you. I mean, you're cute, but your hair's a mess and I don't even know what you used to dress like. Maybe you were even worse?”

She snorted. “I thought you said you'd listen to me.”

“Only sometimes,” Chloé corrected. “I'm flighty.”

“...At least you're honest.”

-x-

They were in the countryside, that was obvious.

Marinette wasn't familiar with the area in the slightest, having made her way from an overcrowded city in the beginning. She'd ventured out from a necessity rather than on a whim. While the towns were small and the big stores were rare and few between, it meant that with a lower population, there were fewer corpses ambling around and waiting to strike anything that made noise.

It was a fair trade off.

Chloé had agreed to stay away from the cities.

It was how they lived; travelling around on their bicycles aimlessly and raiding homes for supplies before leaving. There was no point settling down and making a home when nowhere was safe any more.

There was nothing more terrifying than the sound of a car.

And if Marinette had to make her choice, she preferred the quiet when she could hear Chloé's breathy laugh as they shared a scented candle in the evening.

Chloé preferred lemon ones.

That acquired taste for sour things translated into food, too. When they came across an apple tree—green, the type that was used for cooking—Marinette had been the first to bite into one and promptly choke from the unexpected taste.

Thankfully, they found sugar and cooked them together.

It was the best meal that they'd had in ages.

“I love sweets,” Chloé said with a wistful tone. She was eating slowly, drawing out the experience and not caring that the food was cooling. “Seriously, give me anything with sugar and I'll fight you to the death for it.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “I'd split it with you, chill.”

Chloé sighed. “Yeah, I know you would.”

Her brow furrowed. “Is that a problem?”

“Sometimes, I miss the days when you glared at me,” Chloé remarked, smile showing her teeth. They were more yellow that they'd been in the beginning. “But then I realise that I get to cuddle you now, so I'm satisfied.”

She grimaced. “Stop.”

“You're cuddly,” Chloé said, smiling wider. “You're the one that cosies up to me when you're asleep, you know.”

“It's a habit,” she mumbled, scooping a large spoon of food into her mouth. And when she'd swallowed without Chloé saying anything in response, she elaborated with, “I used to sleep with a small cushion that I hugged all the time.”

Chloé snickered. “An upgrade from a stuffed toy?”

She sniffed. “It made me feel more mature.”

“I'm sure it did.”

“What about you?” she questioned.

Chloé blinked. “What?”

“Did you do anything to—well, try and be more adult?” she asked, tilting her head.

Bluntly, Chloé responded, “I've been paraded around in bikinis since I was twelve.”

Marinette was doubtful. “Sure.”

“I was,” Chloé insisted, nodding her head. “Nipple covers seemed a bit unnecessary when I didn't even have boobs yet, but it's not like they listened to me—well, not for a few years after that, at least. I didn't have the authority when I was a nobody.”

She mused, “I feel like your backstory changes depending on the day.”

Chloé winked. “Or you're just unlocking more and more of it.”

“Being a tween bikini model isn't very believable,” she told her. “Maybe go for something else. I'd believe if you—I don't know, helped your parents' business after school?”

With a laugh, Chloé replied, “You think my parents would've let me help them?”

She shrugged. “I don't know? It could've been something to keep you occupied, so you wouldn't cause havoc around the house.”

“That's why they hired an au pair,” was the matter-of-fact response to that. “Nannies are too overrated.”

She blinked.

“What?” Chloé questioned, pushing one of her braids over her shoulder. “Is that too fancy for you? I assure you, she was cool. And she let me have alcohol when my parents weren't home.”

“...I feel like this isn't true,” she said, dubious. “Don't au pairs, like, live with you?”

Chloé nodded. “It made us a nice little family of five for a while.”

She tilted her head. “Five?”

Chloé fiddled with her sleeves. “My brother.”

It was the first mention of a sibling; Chloé had said about her parents in passing, never quite stating what they did for their jobs or anything other than little titbits of information that they laughed about when they were cold and had nothing else to do. And yet, in all their time together, Marinette had assumed that they were both only children.

She didn't know what to say to that.

And Chloé—

Chloé didn't say anything, instead packing up her belongings and walking towards their bicycles.

-x-

There were a few basics that Marinette knew; Chloé's companions had died a few hours before they met, leaving her alone, and that she'd latched onto Marinette and refused to take no for an answer.

Chloé was a fast learner, liked to swear, and her way of talking was more bark than bite. It had taken her a while to get comfortable with stabbing corpses in the head, though her performance wasn't bad with the wooden bat that she'd had in the beginning.

Unfortunately, it had broken after one too many uses.

They were constantly looking for handy little weapons that they could carry around.

Marinette had considered taking a cleaver before realising how awkward it would be to try and keep safely.

When they raided a home that used to belong to an old couple, Chloé had happily taken the knitting needles before using them to kill that very couple that were locked up in their room. It seemed that whoever had been in the home before them had left the corpses in there to rot, not taking their chances with killing them.

Chloé patted her own arm with a grin. “I never thought I'd love denim this much.”

“Not a fan before?” she asked.

“I would've never been caught dead in double denim before,” Chloé assured her. “But now it can keep rotten teeth away from me? I practically worship it.”

She laughed.

A few knitting needles—the more sturdy ones that looked like they weren't going to snap—were placed into their bags, along with the food that was still edible.

“Someone either wasn't greedy or they fucking suck,” Marinette remarked, taking in the dirty footsteps all over the floor. The back door's window was smashed, glass scattered around the room. “More for us, I guess.”

Chloé raised a fist in victory. “Thank you, idiots.”

“So, if you were a teenage bikini model with an au pair, that means your parents were loaded, right?” she questioned as they stashed away their findings. “Because it kind of sounds like it.”

Chloé grinned. “Private school and everything.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Spoiled rich kid, got it.”

Chloé quipped, “I'm a different kind of spoiled now.”

Marinette stared.

It led Chloé to pointing to herself as she said, “My smell? I thought it was really obvious.”

She almost choked on her laughter.

Chloé huffed. “You don't appreciate me enough.”

“I was caught off-guard!” she exclaimed, laughter making her voice come out breathy. “I mean, you barely ever say anything bad about yourself! It was weird.”

Chloé haughtily raised her head. “It was a once in a lifetime experience for you.”

“Can I have it again for my birthday present?” she questioned. “I've been a good girl, I swear.”

With a laugh, Chloé pointed out, “You don't even know what month it is.”

“Neither do you!” she retorted. “You're as bad as me.”

Chloé ignored her.

They stayed away from the road.

Although there were a lot of cars broken down, they'd decided to stick to their bicycles for a while. It was a hassle to try and find the keys to the vehicles, let alone trying to keep the petrol topped up. And when they didn't have a set location in mind and were wandering aimlessly, there wasn't a lot of point in travelling such a large distance.

When the weather got terrible, they sometimes slept in them.

They hadn't bumped into a large cluster of the dead for months, so that danger wasn't present at that moment. And if they did, they could climb a tree or get up to the roof of a building and wait until they passed to jump down.

Life had a lot of waiting.

Marinette had always been patient.

Chloé was a different matter, however.

Unlike Marinette who could use the rubik's cube for a while to stay up, Chloé got annoyed and gave up in less than half an hour. Staying up for her meant playing with her hair, trying to count the stars in the sky, or anything else mundane that would only last for a little while before she got restless.

There wasn't a lot that they had to do.

Without technology, they were terribly limited, and that was even more so when they had to keep their light down to a minimum in the night to prevent attracting attention. While the dead weren't attracted to light, humans were.

It wasn't something they wanted to experience again.

The woods started to be replaced with buildings the further they went.

They stuck to the treeline along the edge, both ducking down and hiding from sight when the tell-tale sound of a car came past.

It was going in the same direction as them.

Marinette let out a breath. “What do you think?”

“I think we're not going any further,” Chloé decided, brushing a fallen leaf out of her hair. “We could camp out in a house and block everything up? There's a few nearby here with the woods on their back garden.”

It was better than setting up a tent and being out in the open at that moment.

They found one that didn't smell too bad.

There was blood on the floor, a trail that went out of front door that proved someone had dragged a body out of there long ago, but the windows were all in tact. Marinette knocked on the wall and waited to see if any corpses would appear, and when that was clear, they went about blocking up the windows of the room they were planning to stay in for the evening.

Rather than spreading out around the house, they stayed together.

Chloé helped her carry a large piece of furniture to block the door in the kitchen.

There wasn't anything left to scavenge in the home.

As Marinette yawned first, Chloé insisted on keeping watch first.

Sat side-by-side upon the bed in a bordered up bedroom, Marinette slumped over and closed her eyes, curling into a ball.

It had barely been a few minutes before Chloé nudged her.

“What?” she mumbled.

“Here,” Chloé said, shoving something soft in her face.

It was stuffed animal.

She accepted it with her face feeling warm. “Thanks.”

“It's fine, you big baby,” Chloé teased, going as far as to pat her head.

Marinette didn't slap her hand away; instead, she nuzzled into the duvet, holding the stuffed animal against her chest and hugging it tightly.

The bedside table had been moved to be beside Chloé with a candle sat on it. A torch was there in case it was needed, though they rarely used it to preserve the batteries.

Marinette shifted, trying to get comfortable when she was fully dressed.

She hadn't taken her shoes off.

When she woke up, the sun was just coming up. Marinette stirred, drowsily rubbing her face and pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes in an attempt to become more alert. There was that familiar smell of the lemon that couldn't quite drown out the wafts of odour coming from her body, but Chloé wasn't talking.

And when she blearily looked around, she couldn't see her.

Marinette tried not to panic.

It had happened before, hadn't it? Chloé had momentarily wandered off to go to the toilet in another place, leaving only for a few minutes.

But there was that nagging feeling that it wasn't right; Chloé was supposed to wake her up before the sun rose so they could swap. It was a routine that happened any time they stayed within a home.

It wasn't something that Chloé would forget.

The torch from the bedside table was gone.

Marinette grasped one of her knives, getting up and placing a hand over her fast-beating heart, taking in a deep breath. The sun was starting to come through the windows, allowing her to see more than she would if she tried to carry the candle around.

The only sound were the birds outside.

She opened the door slowly, wincing as the hinges creaked.

Knocking on the wall, she waited to see whether there would be any sort of response.

And when there wasn't, she walked out, trying to see if the dust on the ground would give her any indication on where Chloé had wandered off to. Unfortunately, they'd walked all over the home earlier, so the footsteps were muddled.

She checked the rooms upstairs first, cracking them open and peering in to see whether anyone was there.

It was downstairs that there was a difference. The window in the kitchen that they'd decided not to cover was pried open, a breeze that hadn't been there before coming through and making her hair move.

Marinette sucked in a sharp breath.

There were dirty footprints on the countertop.

And yet, she couldn't hear any noises; no sounds of someone moving around, nothing to indicate that anyone else was in there with them. The furniture was still in front of the doors to prevent people from coming inside—

Covering up the windows would've been asking for someone to try and break in. A home with blocked doors and windows that couldn't be seen in meant that someone was surely in there.

It was too obvious nowadays.

Chloé knew to wake her up. Those were the kind of scares that they were prepared for, that they had a _plan_ for—

There was fresh blood mixed in with the dirt on the tiled floor.

After checking the rest of the floor, she walked slowly, following the trail before she came to the toilet downstairs. Red was smeared over the doorknob, more blood on the floor that indicated that it was gushing freely and the fact it wasn't congealed or a rotten colour meant that it was from a living person.

After all, the dead didn't bleed like the living.

She opened the door with her non-dominant hand, knife ready in the other.

There was only one body crumpled on the floor with a steadily growing puddle of blood underneath them.

Marinette felt like she'd been punched.

She dropped to her knees, knife clattering to the ground as she reached out to cradle Chloé's face, frantically feeling her bloodstained neck to see whether she had a pulse.

It was faint.

Her hands were shaking.

Chloé was unconscious, no longer able to apply pressure to her wounds. Marinette fumbled to take her denim jacket off to reach the hoodie underneath, bundling it up into a ball and pressing into the wound on Chloé's stomach. There was no doubt that it was caused by a knife, but no one—

No one was there with them any more.

She felt numb.

The medical supplies they had were upstairs, but—

But she'd never been the one to treat a stab wound on someone else before. Marinette had been stitched up, had been on the receiving end of the agony, and had never been there to witness it happen to anyone else.

It was hard to part away from her.

Marinette tried to turn Chloé over onto her side, stomach twisting at the sight of her friend's blonde hair stained with blood, making it so she was leaning on the wound and keeping the jacket underneath it.

She ran up the stairs, grabbing two of their bags that had the medical supplies in them.

Rushing back down, Marinette shakily got out the first-aid kit and the small bottle of alcohol they'd savoured for moments such as these. Chloé wasn't there to tell her to calm down and stop being dramatic, and all the negative thoughts made her feel like she was going to throw up at any moment.

She turned Chloé back over, revolted at her limp body.

Chloé's ribs were visible as she pushed the shirt up.

She fumbled to find a needle and thread to stitch the wound, deciding that would be her best course of action. The injuries that they'd gotten while travelling together were superficial—the most was Chloé breaking her finger in an act of stupidity.

All that mattered was that Chloé was still breathing.

Did it say something about her that she wasn't crying?

It felt almost like it wasn't her own body as she went through the motions, pushing Chloé's shirt up and trying to make it stay there before she sterilised the needle with the alcohol.

She'd only done two stitches before she heard a noise.

Marinette paused, the shaking of her hands starting up again. The window was still there, cracked open and making it easy to access the inside of the home—

Their luck hadn't been so terrible for a while.

The toilet didn't have a lock. Whoever had stabbed Chloe had left the home and disappeared—but for them to come back when there was nothing to take from the home? The cupboards were open in the kitchen, making it clear that the supplies were already gone.

She had a choice whether to finish stitching her friend up before going to investigate—or risk it and leave her bleeding out when her pulse was already weak.

There wasn't much of a chance that she'd make it through when Marinette's knowledge of injuries were so little.

Chloé wasn't conscious and screaming from pain, but the blood led to the room that they were in.

There was nothing to block the door.

So, Marinette did what she wouldn't have done if it had been their first few weeks together; she stayed there, continuing to stitch her friend with numb hands, her heart beating wildly in her chest with every sound that was audible.

There wasn't any talking.

Though, there was some sort of clanging that sounded suspiciously like a pan before it stopped as quickly as it had appeared. She couldn't hear the thud of footsteps for a while.

Marinette finished the last stitch, hoping that she hadn't done it too tightly or that the internal damage was too severe to recover from the shabby treatment she'd done. She fumbled in the kit for a bandage of some sort to put over it, deciding to push her luck and wipe it with some of the leftover alcohol.

Chloé didn't stir.

It wasn't a promising reaction.

There were a few over scrapes and bruises, but nothing as severe as the stab wound that required attention. Marinette sat there, her trousers wet from her friend's blood, lost on what to do.

The rest of their belongings were still in the bedroom that they'd been in, along with their bicycles. And if Chloé woke up, she'd need water and food to recover—

But she couldn't leave her in the toilet for someone else to find her again.

Marinette stood up on shaky legs, picking up her knife and clutching it tightly. She stood to the side of the door, making it so she wouldn't be covered when it opened, and stayed pressed there staring at the doorknob, trying to calm down and wait patiently for something to happen.

She could hear footsteps.

It felt like hours before it turned.

Marinette reacted appropriately.

She caught them off-guard, kicking their leg and pushing to make them call over onto their back, kneeling down and pressing her knife into the side of their neck hard enough to make it bleed, but not slice.

It was a man. “Wait, I didn't—”

Her knife was too blunt to kill him by slicing his neck. His flesh wasn't soft from rot.

So, she did the next best thing.

Marinette knocked him out.

It took surprisingly little effort when she was the one with the upper-hand. And before he could recover, she took his jacket off and used it to tie his arms behind his back.

With Chloé hurt, it was one of the situations where having a car would be useful.

After little hesitation, she searched the man's body. He had a knife attached to his belt, a pair of scissors in his pocket, and a distinct lack of bag that meant that the he'd parted from it momentarily. There was no one that would walk around with nothing to their name.

Well, except for Chloé.

The car keys had the brand of the vehicle on them, thankfully. Marinette chose putting the two backpacks in the room on before trying to lift Chloé up. It proved to be difficult when they both were equally as malnourished.

Then, there was the problem of the window being the exit.

It wasn't optimal to leave the man alive when she had to spend so much time making an exit.

So, she set Chloé down on the sofa and grasped the knife that she'd taken from him—that was sharper than her own—and was about to make her way over to him when he stirred.

Before she could get there, his head snapped up and noticed her.

Except it wasn't her that he was looking at.

The man winced and stared at Chloé's bloodied body, using the doorway to lean on with his shoulder to keep himself upright.

It was a whisper as he asked, “Chloé?”

At first, she thought it was her imagination.

Then, he staggered forward with his arms bound still, completely ignoring the threat that she presented with a knife in her hand, instead trying to make his way to the sofa.

Marinette stepped between them, getting the attention back on her. “What did you say?”

“I—Chloé?” he choked out. “That's Chloé, isn't it?”

Her heart was beating loudly. “And you are?”

There wasn't anything remarkable about him; he was as skinny and dirty as anyone else, yet he was looking at Chloé in disbelief, tears appearing in his eyes from recognising her.

“I-I'm her brother,” he stuttered out, trying to get closer.

Marinette didn't know what to say.

Who would lie about that? He'd known Chloé's name before she'd said it, had chosen to focus on her unconscious friend instead of threaten her despite the fact he had no weapons on him any more, and all Marinette could do was stand there, clueless on how to handle the situation.

It was good that she didn't kill him, maybe.

“Brother,” she said, repeating the word under her breath. “You're... her brother.”

He wasn't trying to edge further any more, but that didn't mean he was looking anywhere but at Chloé.

“I thought she was dead,” he whispered, not trying to hide his tears.

All the information that she knew about him was limited—hell, Marinette had never been told his name.

So, she asked, “Did you have a nanny?”

He sniffed. “Au pair.”

Well, shit.

-x-

His name was Adrien.

Although she didn't give him his weapons back, he helped her move the furniture and volunteered to carry Chloé's body to his car for safety. As much as she didn't want to involve herself with a stranger, there was no way that she'd be able to look Chloé in the eyes and say that she'd stranded her brother out of distrust.

“I have a group,” Adrien said.

“That's nice,” Marinette replied, climbing into the backseat and adjusting Chloé's body so her head was resting in her lap, checking to see whether she'd bled through her bandages. It was then that she remembered the rest of their belongings upstairs. “Would you—I left our things upstairs.”

Adrien stared at her.

She didn't break eye contact.

There was no trust between them, after all. The compromise was for Adrien to take the car keys back as he went into the home to get the two forgotten bags while Marinette waited in the car.

Chloé wasn't stirring.

He made it back, with her two bags and three more that she hadn't spotted in the home. “Is that it?”

The candle was bound to be forgotten, but she wasn't going to demand for him to get it when it was a wonder that he wasn't accusing her of being the one to hurt Chloé in the first place.

“That's everything but our bikes.”

“I don't think they'll fit,” he said, running a hand through his matted hair.

Marinette looked down at her lap, brushing Chloé's hair away from her face. “They're not important.”

It was as he climbed behind the steering wheel that he asked, “Have you—have you been with her long?”

“Over a year at this point, I think,” she pondered. “I was the first person she came across after the group she was with died.”

“It's been...” Adrien trailed off, starting the car before gripping the wheel tightly, enough for her to see the white skin around his knuckles. “I haven't seen her for a year and a half. I thought—”

Rather than dwell on the sadness, she asked, “You kept count?”

He snapped his head around to look at her. “You haven't?”

“No?” It came out sounding like a question. “I mean, I vaguely think it's autumn? Sometime around then, at least. The leaves falling are a dead giveaway.”

His smile didn't reach his eyes. “Is it only you two?”

It was okay to talk to him, wasn't it?

Adrien had no weapons on him. His main concerns were for his unconscious sister that had never mentioned more than his existence once.

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Oh,” was all he said to that.

The drive was uneventful.

Marinette gazed out the window blankly, taking in the overgrown lawns and the woods that lined the streets. There was nothing maintained about it; dead bodies appeared every now and then, decomposing from their brains being struck or ambling around and reacting to the sound of the car, though there wasn't another human in sight.

“Did you see?” Adrien asked.

She didn't say anything.

He cleared his throat. “Did you see who hurt her?”

“No,” she admitted. “I was asleep.”

There wasn't any more questions after that.

She almost dozed off before fumbling in the bag for the rubik's cube to keep her awake. Chloé had packed it away from getting frustrated with it, as usual.

It never lasted for long.

Yet, her unconsciousness did. Marinette kept checking her pulse in worry, avoiding Adrien's eyes in the mirror when he glanced back at her, and the awkward atmosphere in the car was getting a bit too much to handle.

She didn't trust easily.

But he—he was Chloé's family. She didn't know how happy her friend would be when she woke up.

At least, she thought she would be. Chloé had never badmouthed her brother—had barely said anything at all—but if he was awful, she would've been told, right?

It was a gamble she had to take when Chloé was in such a bad condition.

Her voice sounded hoarse as she asked, “How far?”

“Half an hour, I think,” was his response to that.

“You think?” she questioned.

“Half an hour,” he repeated, less hesitant. “My—a few of us are camped out there. We found a home with one of those... fancy gates outside? I mean, it might as well be a mansion, but we've blocked up a lot of it and it's working pretty well.”

He was a rambler, then.

Chloé tended to spout insults instead of talking out her trail of thought.

“Will Chloé know them?” she asked.

“One,” he admitted. “They're... we lost a lot and gained a few along the way. Some might—there might be a bit of an uproar about bringing you two in, but I'll vouch for you.”

She shifted in her seat, cradling Chloé's head so she wouldn't jostle her off. “How many?”

Adrien didn't think over his answer. “Five, including me.”

Either he too honest with everyone or Chloé's reappearance had dropped his guard.

-x-

The home they arrived in front of was large. The bushes out front had become overgrown and tangled in the iron fence, the flowers had withered and died long ago, and from there being no electricity, Adrien had to hop out of the car and open up the fence after undoing a padlock with a key.

There wasn't a lot of security in that.

He locked it again once the car was through, jumping back in to drive the car further up the brick driveway that would've once looked grand with the garden around it.

Someone wealthy had moved to the countryside, obviously.

Adrien had explained that he'd raided the town he'd found them in a few days ago before coming back for the last supplies that he'd hidden.

He didn't know anything about who could've attacked Chloé and dragged her into the toilet to let her bleed out.

Rather than taking her to meet everyone else, Adrien said that he'd have to lock her in a room for a while since the last time they'd taken someone in, they'd tried to steal all their belongings and run away.

She agreed with the condition that she could stay with Chloé.

Adrien pursed his lips, unhappy.

She didn't give in.

So, that was how she was locked into a bedroom on the second floor with Adrien delivering a new first-aid kit and checking Chloé's bruises. Marinette agreed to the terms of staying in there since it was attached to a bathroom—plumbing wouldn't work, but it was better than going in the corner—and planned to take stock of their belongings to pass the time.

An offering would make Adrien's group more agreeable to letting them in, right?

In the evening, Adrien knocked on the door before cracking it open and peering in.

Marinette didn't get up.

She raised her hand and said, “Hi.”

“Hello,” he started, hesitance clear. “Are you...”

“What?” she questioned.

“Do you—need food or anything?” Adrien stuttered out, looking at her for a moment before his gaze was focused on where Chloé was unconscious on the bed. “I could get you something... light for when she wakes up? I got some oats for a shitty porridge.”

The offer wasn't one she'd expected. “We've got food.”

“Oh,” was all he said.

Then, there was an awkward moment where neither of them said anything.

Adrien cleared his throat, opening his mouth to say something—

Before closing the door and locking it, running away.

Marinette wasn't too bothered.

It took a day for Chloé to wake up.

When it happened, Chloé groaned, shifting on the bed and muttering, “What the fuck?”

Marinette almost fell over from how quickly she stood up.

And instead of blurting out everything that had happened, she pretended like everything was normal. Chloé didn't question where they were further than Marinette replying that it was somewhere safe.

It was telling that Chloé would believe that without hesitation.

“So, I got robbed,” Chloé bluntly told her, touching a hand over her wound before wincing. “Some dude took my knife and torch. Do we still have the backups?”

“Only one knife?” she asked.

Chloé flashed her a peace sign. “I hid the others well.”

“Not well enough not to get stabbed, apparently.”

“With my own knife as well,” she complained, dramatically putting the back of her hand to her forehead. “That's karma for me being cocky, I guess. You looked cute asleep.”

Marinette snorted. “So, you thought you could take on whatever the noise was?”

“Your face filled me with confidence,” Chloé replied matter-of-factly, dealing with the situation with humour instead of facing the trauma of it all. “Never show it to me again. I might seriously die next time.”

“You're not allowed to die,” she retorted.

Chloé said, “Since when do I follow rules?”

“You follow mine,” she reminded her. Then, bitterly, she muttered, “Until recently, apparently. Did I lose all authority from being your survival expert because I'm cute?”

Chloé huffed. “Yeah, yeah. I'll listen to you next time.”

Marinette crossed her arms. “That torch was my best friend.”

Chloé let out a scandalised gasp. “You'd pick that over me, your fleshlight?”

She grimaced. “Disgusting.”

“I don't think I'm into humiliation, even when it's me saying these things,” Chloé said with a laugh. Then, she made a choked noise and stiffened up. “Fuck, don't make me laugh. This is worse than a period.”

Marinette really tried not to laugh at that. “Is it?”

“You got stabbed before, didn't you?” Chloé reminded her. “Shouldn't you _know_?”

“It's a bit of a blur,” she admitted. “And I got some really good painkillers because it was right at the beginning. I mean, who _wouldn't_ drug me from pity when I looked like a fetus?”

“A dirty one,” Chloé muttered.

“Not the point,” she snapped back, lifting her head up haughtily. “This babyface of mine gets me far in life, okay. And by that, I mean it gets me the good shit in my time of need. All they gave you was some antiseptic cream.”

Chloé squinted. “They?”

“...Shit.”

Chloé narrowed her eyes more. “That's making me more suspicious.”

“Did I say they?” Marinette let out a fake laugh. “I meant me, your protector. The only one you need in your life, right?”

The reply to that was, “I said that when I was drunk off my ass.”

“You're drunk on life right now,” she insisted, putting her hands on Chloé's shoulders. “No one else, yeah?”

Chloé frowned.

She winced. “Okay, that sounded a bit desperate.”

“It didn't make my heart flutter at all,” Chloé told her. “You should work on your delivery more.”

“Only the delivery?” she questioned. “Not being toxic and possessive?”

Chloé winked at her. “I'm into that when it's from someone cute.”

“You're supposed to be injured, stop hitting on me,” Marinette complained, taking her hands back and sitting down beside her on the bed with a sigh. “Okay, how much do you want to know?”

“About... this?” Chloé gestured vaguely around them. “Because you're being super sketchy. We didn't, like, get kidnapped or anything, did we?”

She shook her head. “No.”

Chloé shifted and winced from her wound. “Why are we here?”

“Well—”

“Tell me,” Chloé demanded.

Marinette swallowed. “I... met someone from your old group?”

Chloé stared at her.

“He wasn't the one to stab you,” she assured her.

“Yes, I know that,” Chloé said slowly. “My old _group_? What do you mean?”

“Well, he recognised you?” It came out sounding like a question. “And offered to help you, so that's... why we're here. Yeah.”

There wasn't anything pleased about Chloé's expression. Slowly, she ground out, “And you trusted some random guy?”

She didn't say anything.

It made Chloé angrier.

“Come on!” Chloé exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You think I want to be with anyone from _then_? You saw how useless I was!”

“I didn't—”

“For someone that has to warn me about stupid shit sometimes, I think you're the idiot here, not me,” Chloé proclaimed. “Fuck you.”

“Now you're just being rude,” she muttered.

Chloé sniffed. “You deserve it.”

“I deserve it? I'm not the one that got stabbed from getting cocky,” Marinette pointed out with a click of her tongue. “Besides, I thought you'd want to see your brother again.”

Chloé repeated dubiously, “My brother?”

“Your brother,” she confirmed, suspicious from the lack of change in her friend's expression. And to further emphasise it, she said, “Adrien, your brother. The one you grew up in a family of five with? That one.”

Chloé scowled at her. “I only have one brother, Marinette.”

“Well, you were taking a while to get there,” she lamely replied. “Aren't you happy? I thought you'd be happy. He patched you up and everything.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, Chloé quietly asked, “Why are we here?”

“I just told you!”

“Why would you just—I haven't told you _anything_ about him!” Chloé exclaimed, pointing a finger at her in accusation. “I could've hated him!”

Marinette frowned. “Well, he clearly didn't hate you.”

“I hate him.”

“You don't,” she said.

Chloé glared. “I hate him with a passion.”

“You're only passionate about complaining,” she countered. “Quit being dramatic. He'll be here soon to check on you, probably. He hasn't come in today.”

With that, Chloé's gaze went to the door as she proclaimed, “Great, I'm going to punch him.”

She balked. “Excuse me?”

-x-

Chloé punched him and reopened her wound.

Adrien started crying and hiccuped too much, finding it hard to string together any sentences.

And Marinette was sat across the room on an old armchair, awkwardly watching the two interact. She got the first-aid kit and treated Chloé while they bickered. As nervous as she'd been to see the two talk, it was telling that Chloé hadn't tried to reach for a single weapon that they had stashed in the room.

Adrien hadn't taken them away.

“I'm so glad you're okay,” Adrien choked out through his tears, wiping his eyes with his palms and smearing dirt over his face. “Even if you look like a cowboy.”

Marinette tried not to laugh.

She failed.

Chloé glared. While she normally would've shoved her, she was in too much pain to do it.

Chloé and Adrien were on good terms, at least.

“What's up with your hair?” Chloé asked.

He touched the strands at the front that looked singed at the end. “I might've got too close to the fire?”

Chloé bluntly replied, “Are you an idiot?”

His smile showed dimples on his cheeks.

“It was cold,” he defended, not offended in the slightest. “I didn't expect it to pop and hit me in the face, you know? Wait, do you know—”

“Of course I know fire,” Chloé interrupted. “You don't think I survived this long by doing nothing, do you? Because I bet I could kick your ass now.”

“...I found you bleeding out from being stabbed,” he slowly pointed out.

Chloé's response was quick. “That was Marinette, not you.”

“Like that makes it better?” Adrien retorted, incredulous. “You—what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” she said, drawing out the words. “That I can take care of myself. I was caught off-guard, okay? Like you and the fire. It was a mistake.”

He frowned.

Chloé frowned right back.

Marinette marvelled at how alike they were. For never having heard about him, seeing the two in close proximity was like a fever dream that she didn't want to experience. It had been only her and Chloé for so long—that frown was usually directed at her, along with the scathing words, and for it to suddenly be someone else that was on the receiving end of her smile, Marinette felt entirely out of place.

She hadn't interacted with others for so long.

Chloé was safe and known—a comfort in such harsh times.

“I'll bring you up some food,” Adrien offered, finally happy that he'd gotten to hug Chloé lightly. “I can't say it'll be anything gourmet, but it's _something_.”

Chloé shoved him away. “We've got food already.”

He started to say, “What's mine is yours—”

“No,” Chloé interrupted. “Do the rest of your group even know that we're here yet? Because I doubt they're happy about sharing their supplies with some newcomers.”

He frowned. “They know.”

Chloé stared.

“Okay.” Adrien's shoulders sagged. “Nino knows.”

“Nino,” Chloé repeated, dubious. “Nino, your best friend?”

He beamed. “Yes!”

“...How is he still alive,” Chloé demanded incredulously, not quite phasing it like a question. “He's—he's an idiot.”

“He's not _that_ bad,” Adrien defended.

“He lost his glasses and couldn't see,” Chloé retorted. “Literally.”

“Well, we found him a new pair, of course,” he replied, crossing his arms. “And he can see pretty well now! And we've got a new back up pairs if it ever happens again. I mean, who's raiding opticians, you know? No one! It's free reign for all.”

Chloé scoffed. “The frames aren't prescribed.”

“It can't all be perfect—”

“Marinette,” Chloé called, dragging her into the conversation awkwardly for the first time. “Would you share your food with newcomers?”

She blinked. “We've never had anyone new.”

Adrien tilted his head. “It can't have been only you two the whole time.”

“It was,” Chloé insisted. “Though, I did have a squirrel friend before we ate him.”

Marinette gave her a thumbs up. “He was nice.”

Chloé mimicked her.

Adrien looked horrified.

There was nothing threatening about the situation. Marinette felt a bit on edge still, though; worried about the other people in Adrien's group despite how easy-going he'd come across. His clothes were dirty, his hair was a mess and clearly uneven, but he was full of smiles and there wasn't any lingering anger or distrust from meeting a stranger.

If anything, the happiness he felt from seeing Chloé was overpowering everything else.

It brought up the question, “When can we meet the others?”

Adrien ran a hand through his hair. “Want to all at once or...”

“Whichever,” she replied, talking for the both of them. “If it means getting out of this locked room before I become stir-crazy, anything works.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “I'd offer you the key, but...”

“Give me the key,” Chloé demanded.

“You can't do anything right now,” he pointed out. “And I need to be able to get in here. I don't have _two_ keys. What do you think I am? Made of money?”

“You're camping out in a mansion,” Marinette joked.

He smiled at that. “The bathroom has a lock on the inside, so that counts for something, right?”

“Oh, totally,” she muttered.

Chloé glared at him. “Is Nino here?”

“He's out on a run,” Adrien answered her honestly. “With his wife.”

Chloé was taken aback. “His—what?”

“Wife,” Adrien repeated, amused. “Not like they can actually get married now, so they just... claimed they are? And we're rolling with it. He'll get really upset if you tell him that's now how it works, so avoid that.”

Chloé scowled. “But him? He can't even see properly!”

Adrien pretended to shoot her. “That's his charm.”

“Disgusting,” Chloé replied, not making it clear whether she meant Adrien's response or his actions. “Okay, so you've got Nino... this wife that he met, somehow, in the time I was gone. And how many others?”

“Two,” Marinette supplied.

Chloé looked at her strangely.

“You were listening to me!” Adrien exclaimed with a smile. “I thought, maybe, it was all in one ear and out the other. It would've been if I was in your situation, to be fair.”

“Who?” Chloé prompted.

“Luka and Nathaniel,” he answered. “They're nice guys, but I can't tell if they're quiet from trauma or... if that's just their personality? We ran into them, maybe... half a year ago? Never had any problems with them, so I think it should be fine.”

-x-

It was when Nino returned with his wife that they were introduced to the others.

Marinette had helped Chloé hobble down the stairs, offering to carry her and getting kicked in the shin in return, and they'd come to a relatively clean living room where everyone was sitting down.

There weren't any problems.

Chloé was the centre of attention, of course. It was bound to happen regardless; Nino latched onto her and hugged her tightly, crying that she was okay, while everyone else spoke of the tales they'd heard about her.

Marinette awkwardly raised her hand and said, “Hi, I'm Marinette.”

And that was it for a while.

Luka was the one that spoke to her most.

He was tall, had his greasy hair pulled back into a ponytail, and really was as quiet as Adrien had warned her he would be. Luka was soft-spoken, fiddled with his sleeve when he was nervous, and was the only one of the new group that was wearing full denim to prevent the dead from biting through his clothes.

It was clear he'd decided she wasn't a threat when he offered, “Do you need any more weapons?”

Marinette patted her jacket. “I have a few knives, but thanks.”

“I'll take you to the stash if you need some more,” he said, glancing around to where the others were fretting over Chloé and checking to see that she hadn't opened her wound again. “Is there—do you need anything else?”

“Else?” she questioned.

“I don't know,” Luka lamely replied. “Whatever, I guess. We've just been... collecting everything for a while.”

She leaned forward and asked, “Any fidget spinners?”

He smiled. “A few.”

With enough light in the evening to properly see what they were doing, Luka was the one to suggest that they could solve a puzzle.

Marinette had no complaints.

It didn't need to be said that she wouldn't be trusted immediately.

And as much as Adrien protested, Chloé wasn't either. Nino was the only other person that could vouch for her—someone that had known Chloé since before the outbreak—but that wasn't enough for everyone else. When it came time to sleep, they had to return to their room and be locked in.

It was strange for the both of them to sleep at the same time.

“You're the one that cuddled me first,” Marinette protested in the morning.

Chloé snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“You _did_!”

She struck up a tentative relationship with the others.

Nathaniel was pale, his hands shook horribly whenever he tried to hold something which meant that he was terrible with knives or aiming a bb gun, but he had a good sense of humour.

She'd found that out when he'd tripped over and his muttered comment had caused her to laugh aloud.

He'd flushed, embarrassed that someone had heard him.

She gave him a thumbs up.

He buried his face in his hands.

Chloé protested that she didn't want Adrien and Nino smothering her with attention, but she had a smile on her face the entire time. The reluctance was almost entirely forced, though she could see why Nathaniel kept glancing at them in concern when Chloé started to swear and swat their hands away.

The issue was that Chloé had a personality that was hard to get used to, that was all.

While Marinette—

Marinette felt like an awkward outsider the entire time, lurking on the edge and not knowing what to do.

Nino's wife was named Alya.

And unfortunately, according to Alya, they knew each other.

Marinette squinted. “No, we don't.”

“We do,” Alya insisted, brushing her curly hair over her shoulder. “You're probably confused because I'm hot now, but I'm being serious.”

She frowned. “You don't look hot at all.”

Nino exclaimed from across the room, “You take that back!”

“Babe!” Alya said with a laugh, pointing at her husband. “It's fine, butt out of this! I told you I wanted to talk to her alone!”

“You are alone!” he shouted back. “I'm in the hallway, it counts!”

All Marinette could say to that was, “What?”

Alya leaned forward and informed her, “I'm going to tell you something top secret.”

Marinette wasn't sure what her expression was, but it was enough to make Alya laugh.

Then, Alya cleared her throat and tried to have a serious expression as she claimed, “You had a nosebleed in class and fell down the stairs when you tried to go to the nurse.”

Marinette stared at her.

“Maths class,” Alya clarified, nodding her head confidently. “With—I can't remember her name? But our teacher was a woman that was really shouty, I think.”

Bluntly, she replied, “So what?”

Alya blinked. “What?”

“I don't know you,” Marinette insisted, titling her head. “We were never friends, so what do you expect to get from this?”

Alya shrugged. “I get to flex my knowledge on you, that's all.”

She frowned.

“What?” Alya said. “There's nothing to do any more. You can backup the crazy shit I say about my time in school now.”

And with that out of the way, Alya turned on the spot and ran out to be with Nino, taking his arm in hers and dragging him away from her field of view.

Marinette was entirely confused.

Chloé eventually got fed up of the attention—somehow—and trudged over to sit down beside her on the sofa, doing it dramatically with a sigh.

Instead of talking, Marinette reached out and petted her knees.

Chloé leaned on her, putting her head on Marinette's shoulder.

Marinette adjusted to get more comfortable, closing her eyes.

It was never the plan to fall asleep.

When she woke up to see someone crouched in front of her, Marinette did the first thing that came to mind.

She kicked him in the face.

Adrien cried out as he fell back, clutching his nose as blood poured down his face.

Chloé was startled awake beside her, while the others ran to come and see what the commotion was.

It wasn't Marinette that babbled out the explanation.

“I just—” Adrien stuttered, blood trailing down into his mouth. “I wanted to see Chloé sleeping.”

The silence was broken by Chloé laughing loudly.

-x-

Being accepted into the group was a gradual thing.

It was strange to be around so many people. While it wouldn't have been considered a large group in the past, when people were awake, there was almost always a conversation going on. It was a little tiring to always hear it instead of the silence as they focused on travelling—instead, they stayed within the mansion, safe within the large fences that were surrounding them.

Marinette volunteered to check that none of the dead had made it through, itching for the fresh air and a change of pace.

She knew that she wasn't trusted immediately.

And yet, Nino handed her a knife one day with a wide smile, assuming that she didn't have anything on her.

She didn't correct him.

Marinette was used to being active.

And from being coped up so much, she walked around to try and keep up with it. Although it wasn't as much of a workout as cycling used to be, it was better to be prepared than to have sore muscles when it was time to escape in the future.

Alya whistled at that. “You really prepping for that?”

Marinette looked at her strangely. “You're not?”

“Eh.” Alya shrugged. “This area's pretty much dead, I think? And if anyone makes it over the fences and, like, breaks a window, one of us will hear it.”

It sounded horribly over-confident.

“No?” Alya questioned, tilting her head. “Is that not good enough?”

It was Chloé that suggested, “We could set up traps.”

“Traps?” Alya repeated, baffled. “You—why?”

Marinette said quietly, “For humans.”

There was a lot of staring.

It was accepted because it was Chloé that had said it, apparently. With the empty cans that had yet to be discarded, she set up their usual creation in specific rooms where the windows were most likely to be broken for a break in for a start.

“This'll work?” Luka asked, eyeing the cans dubiously.

All Marinette said it return to that was, “It has before.”

There was a lot of probing about the time she was with Chloé alone.

Marinette didn't open up about it easily. Although she was living with them for Chloé's sake, she was paranoid and jumped at every little noise. It meant that she constantly woke up in the night, feeling around in the bed to see whether Chloé was still there.

There was never going to be a point where she told them all everything.

And it seemed that Chloé felt the same.

“Why would I tell you?” Chloé retorted, giving her brother a disapproving look. “It's none of your business.”

“None of my—” Adrien started, aghast. “How can you say that? I care about you!”

It was new information when Chloé snapped back, “You didn't care enough to let me use a knife before.”

There was a beat of silence.

Adrien's expression crumpled.

And Chloé—

Chloé walked away, running up the stairs and out of sight.

And as Nino went towards Adrien to comfort him, Marinette felt more out of place than ever. She backed away, following Chloé without saying a word.

She found her in their shared bedroom.

Marinette flopped down beside her, staring up at the ceiling.

There didn't need to be anything said between them. Even when it was the two of them side-by-side, that was enough to be a comforting presence. It had been what had helped her through the coldest nights in the winter when they could hear the dead walking outside, the sound of fallen branches cracking causing them to jump and hold their breath.

Instead of prying, Marinette said, “I think I've got another lemon candle in my bag.”

Chloé punched her arm lightly. “For real?”

“Don't kill me if I'm wrong,” she said. “But I left our one from before at that house. Along with our bikes.”

Chloé muttered, “Some bastard probably stole them.”

“The candle or the bikes?” she questioned.

Chloé was entirely serious as she replied, “They're equally as valuable.”

Marinette just nodded.

They stayed in that room until Adrien came knocking at the door, awkwardly asking to come in.

Marinette got up, smoothing out her shirt before she started towards the door—

Only for Chloé to grab her by the wrist, dragging her back to the bed and demanding for her to sit down with them.

“You sure?” she asked. “Because this is really fucking awkward.”

“You're not going anywhere,” Chloé said.

Adrien put his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels as he questioned, “Why?”

“I want her here,” Chloé told him, keeping her hand on Marinette's wrist as a reassurance that she couldn't leave. “And I—it'll be good for her to hear this.”

Adrien didn't look convinced.

Marinette thought she was being used as a shield.

“So,” he started, glancing between them cautiously. “I was an overprotective jerk in the beginning, I can admit that.”

Chloé's words made her stomach twist uncomfortably. “You didn't let me use any weapons.”

“I was stupid,” Adrien blurted, wide-eyed. “I—it hadn't really hit that it was all happening? And I wanted to protect you from all that. I thought—I thought I could.”

“Well, you did great.” Chloé's words were entirely sarcastic. “The others died trying to protect me, and I was left sobbing in a bathroom.”

Marinette helpfully said, “That's not all you were doing.”

Chloé jabbed her in the ribs. “Shut up!”

“She was peeing,” she clarified, laughing as Chloé tried to cover her mouth. “In a dirty, dirty bathroom. Hadn't even secured the building or anything.”

“Stop telling him!”

She had Adrien's attention. “What?”

“That's how I found her,” Marinette replied, taking Chloé's hands into her own and linking their fingers. “I'm not going to sugarcoat it and say it was the start of a beautiful friendship or anything. I was going to kill her until I realised how useless she was.”

Chloé's face turned red. “Marinette!”

“I said _was_!” she exclaimed. “That means I'm complimenting you right now!”

“He doesn't need to know all that!” Chloé protested, punching without enough force to hurt her. “You're not supposed to be like an embarrassing parent!”

“You are the older one of us two,” she mused.

Adrien decided to butt in with the observation, “You two get along well.”

Chloé was unimpressed. “That's obvious.”

“Very well,” he amended, shifting the weight on his feet and taking his hands out of his pocket to run one through his greasy hair. It stiffly stayed where he'd pushed it back, making him appear more unkempt than more. “Thank you for taking care of her all this time.”

Marinette shrugged.

“Really,” he insisted. “I—I can't thank you enough. It's because of you that I found her at all.”

She awkwardly pointed out, “To be fair, I did almost kill you.”

Chloé said, “What.”

“What?” she echoed. “He barged in while I was fixing you up. The only reason he's alive still is because my knife is too dull and I was tired.”

He let out his breath loudly. “I thought you were just being nice.”

“You think tying you up is nice?” she questioned, surprised.

“Better than being stabbed like _someone_ ,” Adrien responded, putting his arms behind his neck and whistling innocently as Chloé glared at him. “I count that as nice, yeah.”

Marinette fiddled with her sleeve. “I guess.”

-x-

When the issue came up on who would be best to go out and collect a few more supplies, Marinette had gotten to know everyone in the mansion.

She'd stayed up into the late hours solving puzzles with Luka, discussed stupid topics with Nathaniel that had them snickering quietly, and Alya always pestered her to bring up their somewhat joint past with Nino lurking nearby, always wanting to be close to her.

And Adrien—

Adrien smiled brightly at her, readily offering any of his supplies since Chloé trusted her.

She had to wonder whether he'd always been so welcoming to newcomers.

He liked puns, that was what she found out.

Chloé hated them.

It led to Chloé throwing her shoe at him before demanding it back. Adrien obediently did as he was told, ruffling Chloé's head after fulfilling the command, not at all put off by Chloé's attitude.

The issue that came up was that Chloé didn't want to let her out of her sight.

Marinette understood completely. She felt jittery when Chloé was elsewhere, that slow feeling of panic building with every passing minute that she was gone not ceasing unless she knew exactly where she'd gone.

Their routine had gone to shit.

There was no more waking each other up in the middle of the night to swap when they were in a home. The two of them were in bed together instead, breathing evenly and jerking awake at any sound, sharing a brush of their hands to assure the other that they were still there before falling back asleep.

It was too much of a change when paired with their days wasted away inside.

Then again, they'd never found such a secure place to live before. Their lifestyle had been day-to-day, complete with travelling wherever they felt.

It had never been stable.

The mansion didn't have running water. For all the rooms and supplies that had been gathered, washing in the pond in the garden wasn't any better than the stream.

And yet, the one thing they were clinging onto still was being together.

When supplies were brought up, Marinette volunteered, restless from being inside for so long.

She'd expected the silence from her immediate answer.

“Let's do it,” Chloé said, stretching her arms out until her bones audibly clicked. “It's been a while, right? I'm healed enough to go.”

“No,” Adrien rejected.

Chloé raised her eyebrows. “Was I asking permission?”

He started to protest, “Chloé—”

“I'm not going without her,” Marinette helpfully interrupted. “And I'm good. I knocked you out, didn't I?”

“That doesn't count!” Adrien protested. “I didn't know you were there.”

“My footprints were visible in the dust and the blood was fresh,” she pointed out. “It's not my fault you didn't pay attention.”

He spluttered, “I saw the blood.”

“And you came _towards_ it?” she questioned, incredulous.

“I thought it—I thought you were dead,” he awkwardly explained, touching the nape of his neck. “I was just going to stab you or something, get my stuff and leave.”

She squinted. “The blood wasn't the right colour.”

“What?” he asked.

That was echoed by the others, too.

Chloé sighed loudly.

“The blood?” Marinette replied, dubiously looking between everyone. “Haven't you—have you seriously not noticed that it's different? It's nothing like when we bleed any more. It would've only been like that if it was someone freshly turned, and then I'd have to question your logic for seeking it out when it was behind a shut door.”

Luka questioned, “How different?”

She was incredulous. “The colour of it.”

“I never pay attention to that,” Nathaniel admitted, bringing his knees up to his chest. “That—it makes me feel sick. And I'm running away instead of sticking around and inspecting it.”

“Are you all unobservant?” Marinette bluntly asked.

Nino's laugh was forced. “I wouldn't say _that_...”

“We're lucky idiots,” Alya helpfully told her with a shameless smile. “It's not like we had to fight anyone for this place. We stumbled across it and are living well for now.”

“And you haven't... had trouble with people? Before?” she asked.

Adrien shrugged. “Not really? I mean, a few have shouted and tried to rob us, but it's never—I haven't had to murder anyone.”

She stared. “No?”

“No,” he confirmed.

It was Chloé that threw her hands up in exasperation. “Even I've killed someone!”

Nino was wide-eyed. “ _You_?”

“They were trying to rob me!” Chloé exclaimed. “What was I supposed to do? Talk them out of it?”

Adrien frowned. “That's what we did?”

There was a lot of staring.

Marinette felt like she suddenly had a lot of weight on her shoulders.

Although she'd thought that Chloé was sheltered in the beginning, she hadn't thought that Adrien and his friends would still be oblivious to what happened out there since the outbreak. Sure, if they could kill the dead without throwing up every time that was good—but handling people was a different matter.

As it noticing her discomfort, Luka leaned over and whispered to her, “I've killed someone.”

She tried not to laugh. “That's nice.”

He smiled.

It was as endearing as it was concerning.

When it came to it, Nino came along with the two of them. Nino was the one to drive the car since neither of them had any idea where they were, and Nino had a map marked with the areas that they'd raided already.

They went to another rich neighbourhood.

The houses had fences out front, but the kind that stopped for a path to lead through to the front door. There was nothing safe about it; it was purely for looks, though there was something charming about the overgrown plants and grass that were taking over.

Their first stop was a home that was overrun with ivy on the outside.

Chloé got out the car and started to stretch.

Nino looked at her strangely.

“What?” Chloé asked. “You want me to die because I got a stitch? I'm not that dumb.”

He held his hands up in a sign of surrender, bewildered.

Marinette got one of her knives out, pushing her elbows out and making sure that she had full mobility in her clothes. There was nothing worse than being restricted because of poor fashion choices, something that Chloé had learned the hard way.

And as she started to walk up to the door, Nino called out, “Hey, wait.”

She gestured for him to stay quiet.

The front door was open. Marinette peered inside, inspecting the dust on the floor and the stench that could've been anything from rotting food to a person, before she knocked on the wall.

Nino was too close, moving to step around her.

She stretched her arm out to stop him, sure her disapproval was written across her expression.

He frowned right back.

Then, there was a response from within the home. It was slow at first, a scraping noise that was becoming louder with every passing moment, before a person became visible at the top of the stairs.

Their ankle was broken.

And instead of limping like a living person would, the dead was dragging it along at the unnatural angle, shuffling slowly and bumping into the wall before approaching the stairs.

There was nothing graceful about the descent.

The corpse stumbled and fell instead of walking down—tumbling down and ended up at the bottom in front of them, starting to get up without crying out in pain.

Marinette kicked the shoulder before stabbing it in the eye.

Nino was speechless, only able to get out, “What—”

“What?” she repeated back, wiping the darkened blood on the corpse's clothing that was still intact. “You do know that they're blind, right? If you need to escape, get somewhere high and your chances of being safe are good. They might figure out the stairs, but climbing a ladder? Impossible.”

He stared at her.

Chloé bumped into him on her way past, setting out for the other entrances first.

Nino didn't say anything as he followed their lead.

There was no need to direct him when he wasn't venturing off by himself. Nino stuck close, copying her movements and helping the block the door in the kitchen, only going to open the cupboard before she'd walked off to inspect the rest of the home, scurrying after her and saving the raiding for later.

When she was satisfied that they were the only ones in the home, they started to fill up the empty backpacks that they'd taken along.

Chloé proposed pouring a bottle of handsoap into the pond to try and get it to look like a cold bubble bath.

She snickered.

The routine stayed the same for the other houses.

It was in the car on the way back that Nino said, “You two—you really know what you're doing.”

“Well, yeah?” Chloé replied from the backseat beside her, making it feel as though they were being chauffeured by him. “How else do you think we made it outside for so long?”

“It was just... weird to see you like that,” he murmured.

“I'm dirty and gross like the rest of you,” Chloé retorted, leaning over and resting her head on Marinette's shoulder despite being jostled as the car moved. “Get over it.”

He breathed out loudly. “Chloé, you used to hate going around barefoot. I didn't think I'd see you... stab someone.”

“They were already dead,” Chloé pointed out. “It wasn't _that_ impressive.”

“It was,” Nino insisted. “You're—you're doing really good.”

“I'm thriving in the apocalypse, thanks,” Chloé claimed with a roll of her eyes that Nino surely missed from paying attention to the empty road. “I won't get arrested for my violent tendencies now.”

Marinette quipped, “I'm sure I could find some handcuffs, if you want to roleplay.”

Chloé's smile showed her teeth. “Yeah?”

“Maybe even the fluffy ones,” she mused. “But not hot pink. I know you hate that.”

Chloé nodded her head in agreement. “It's tacky.”

Nino made a choked noise.

-x-

There seemed to be a misunderstanding.

Marinette wasn't the one to notice it.

It wasn't that she was unobservant; she was terribly paranoid since the world had changed, but she'd always been oblivious to how people thought of her.

Chloé put her hands on her shoulders and bluntly told her, “Everyone thinks we're dating.”

Marinette stared.

“Frankly, I'm offended. If Nino and Alya can decide that they're married, why are they only assuming that we're girlfriends?” Chloé complained, passionate about the wrong thing. “Homophobic, that's what that is.”

She slapped her hands away. “ _Dating_?”

“Focus.” Chloé snapped her fingers. “I'm worth marriage, Marinette.”

Her eloquent response was, “I—what?”

“I'm still pretty,” Chloé insisted, pointing to her own face. “Anyone would be blessed to be with me, even if I smell bad.”

She tried to say, “I think you're focusing on the wrong thing—”

“And we'd be a killer couple,” Chloé interrupted. “I'd wife you any day, don't you listen to them. They're trying to get you down because they don't know that you can skateboard and stab someone on your way past.”

“...That's my best skill?” she asked.

Chloé grinned. “It was pretty cool.”

Marinette breathed out loudly. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Guess they haven't seen friends before,” was Chloé's conclusion. “And you holding my hand might've made their gaydars go off. You know how straight people are with that.”

“Chloé, I'm straight.”

Chloé pointedly held her hand. “How's the gaydar?”

“You're the gayest person I've ever met,” she consoled her, patting her hand in sympathy. “But why are you dragging me into this?”

“I didn't confirm anything,” Chloé corrected. “They're the ones assuming. And you know what they say about that—”

She wrinkled her nose. “How juvenile are you?”

Chloé laughed.

Marinette had thought that it wasn't that important. She hadn't noticed the others treating them any differently than being friendly, and it wasn't as though it was negative to let them assume that. Chloé was in agreement with her on that, choosing to laugh and be purposely vague if someone asked her directly, while Marinette doubted that anyone would come to her.

She'd progressed into talking about casual topics with the others, not heart-to-hearts. The most she could handle was Adrien crying and hugging Chloé closely when he was feeling sentimental, only for Chloé to shove him away and retreat to Marinette's side—

Well, she was starting to see where the misunderstanding had come from.

“I'm touch-starved,” Marinette complained.

“We all are,” Chloé said, patting her head from where they were huddled in bed together, legs intertwined to try and keep warm. “You think I have a problem with this? I almost died that first winter because you wouldn't share your body heat.”

“You kept telling me to fuck off,” she grumbled.

Chloé laughed. “You can fuck off over to me now.”

“That's not as clever as you think it is.”

“I'm _delightful_ ,” Chloé bragged.

“The delight of being with you is losing my brain cells,” she muttered.

Chloé pinched her side.

-x-

The bonding time with Adrien came when they both caught colds.

Because of how little medicine they had, and that they didn't want to spread it further, Marinette supported the idea of being secluded in a room with him. It wouldn't be that different to when she was first in the mansion.

At least, that's what she thought until they'd been together for half an hour.

Adrien filled in the silence with talking.

He started off by talking about his childhood since she had previous knowledge of his au pair. Marinette sat on the bed wrapped in a blanket, nodding her head along with his words before she flopped back against the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Unlike her, Adrien hadn't lost his voice.

Her throat hurt too much to tell him to shut up.

His nose was blocked and made it sound different than normal, but he could _talk_.

When he got onto the topic of being a model, Marinette choked on her laughter and ended up having a coughing fit that caused her eyes to well up with tears from the pain in her throat.

During that, Adrien had wandered over and awkwardly rubbed her back.

And when he saw that she was looking at him, he removed his hand with a shaky smile.

It hurt too much to talk to ask him to repeat what he'd just said.

When she gestured towards him, waving her hand in an attempt to get him to talk again, she was overjoyed when he went back to the same topic.

There wasn't one tween bikini model from his family, apparently.

Well, she doubted that he wore the same outfits, but she was going to refer to it like that until Chloé punched her hard enough to make her stop.

When Adrien's voice started to hurt, they read books until the sunlight dimmed. Marinette dozed off at one point, waking up to realise that Adrien had moved her book away so she could curl up and be comfortable, and she froze up at seeing him sleeping on top of the duvet beside her.

He woke up when it was still dark.

Marinette offered him a smile as he sat up, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

“Marinette—”

His voice cracked horribly and he winced.

She looked at him in glee to realise that his throat was going to restrict him.

When he couldn't talk, they played rock paper scissors for a bit before mostly amusing themselves. There was only so much that they could communicate through hand gestures, and it was tiring to try and play charades when the other couldn't shout out their guesses.

The joined bathroom wasn't awful, thankfully.

And the food that they'd taken in with them was more than enough to last for however long until they recovered.

The days passed without anyone else joining them inside, thankfully.

Marinette got her voice back first.

“I have no idea if this would even work,” she mused, gesturing around them. “The whole isolation thing? I don't know shit about science.”

He smiled, clearly urging her to continue.

“I do know that you guys are safe in your little bubble,” she said, bringing the blanket further up to tuck it under her chin. “Not that I'm saying you don't have it bad or anything—I know people have died and shit, but you're kind of... clueless?”

Adrien tilted his head.

“Not everyone's as nice as me,” she murmured, looking down at the dirty blanket instead of at him. “I really was going to kill you. The only reason I didn't was because it would've taken too long and I needed to get Chloé out of there.”

Adrien gently nudged her with his elbow as an answer to that.

“I'd never heard about you,” Marinette blurted. “Well, I did? A bit. I knew Chloé had a brother, but that was something recent. She... never spoke about her old group. It was a sensitive subject. I mean, it still is? I don't know about anyone else you used to be with, or even who was with her when she got separated before.”

There was a knock at the door later that evening. Marinette waited until footstep had disappeared to crack open the door to see that a puzzle had been left.

It turned out Adrien was useless at them.

She wasn't any better.

The two of them frowned down at the pieces, comparing them to little to no results, ending up with only the corners done by the following morning.

It was something they could bond over.

-x-

No one else caught their colds.

Marinette hadn't missed being able to smell everything. The wafts she'd gotten from her body and clothes had been bad enough, but venturing out to the others had introduced new ones that were overwhelming. And when she went outside to take care of any corpses that had wandered up to the fences, the smell of decay was an unwelcome reminder of the state of the world.

She couldn't always stay in coped up playing with puzzles.

Though, even with all that time, she doubted she'd be able to solve one by herself.

After being locked up together, Adrien was friendlier to her.

“Morning, Marinette!” he'd greeted when she trudged downstairs.

She was too tired to reply.

It was still strange sleeping through the night with Chloé by her side.

“Hey,” she replied, voice hoarse from her sleep.

He passed her a bottle of water.

Marinette nodded gratefully at him.

And with a smile, Adrien bounced away to animatedly talk to someone else who was more awake. He latched onto anyone that was able to talk and hold a proper conversation, jumping between everyone with conversations ranging between banter and small talk about the weather that was mostly for comedic effect from how messed up their everyday lives were now.

He was a people person, that was for sure.

The only person Marinette approached was Chloé.

It seemed like Chloé had the same thoughts as her. “I'm going mad.”

“You are?” she questioned, stretching her arms out to get ready for her daily workout. “Because you were already on the verge before. What's tipping you over?”

Chloé scowled, copying her movements. “I feel locked up.”

“We could always go for a run, if you want,” she offered.

Chloé knew that she didn't mean the type for exercise.

However, Adrien didn't. “What if you get out of breath and you bump into one of _them_?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Stab them?”

“While you're sweaty?” he questioned. “What if you lose grip on the knife? Or if the sound of your breathing that attracts more—”

Chloé burst his bubble. “Not that type of run.”

“Oh.” Adrien frowned. “I—sorry.”

“It was a good question,” Marinette tried to comfort him. “That's the reason no one goes jogging any more, yeah? You're right.”

His smile didn't reach his eyes.

“Don't try and tell him he's smart,” Chloé complained. “Because he's _not_.”

“I'm smarter than you,” Adrien proclaimed, holding his head up haughtily. “And I'm older—”

Chloé pointed an accusatory finger at him. “By, like, five minutes!”

“Twins?” Marinette asked. “I had no idea.”

The two stares she got in return to that were similar.

She supposed they looked related when they were side-by-side and covered in dirt. The blond of their hair matched, skin tones as same as they could be when the tan Chloé had gotten from walking in the sun so much was uneven and patchy, though their eyes were different colours.

“I'd never be able to tell,” she added on.

Chloé scowled. “You're an idiot.”

“Maybe I need to see you both together,” she mused, tapping a finger against her chin thoughtfully. “Both as tween bikini models, you know? That would really make it sink in that you're related.”

Adrien choked on his laughter.

Chloé tossed her braided hair over her shoulder. “You think I'd do a shoot with _him_?”

“I don't know,” she replied. “Is that like—is it inappropriate? They wouldn't have made you do anything... sexual if you're underage anyway, so having your brother there might not be _that_ bad.”

Adrien's voice wobbled with his laughter. “We never wore swimwear together.”

Marinette sighed. “Shame.”

Chloé decided to say, “Adrien wasn't allowed to be topless.”

He made a scandalised noise. “Chlo—”

“What?” Chloe replied, shooting him a smug look. “It's not like I'm wrong? I earned more money than you because of it.”

Marinette questioned, “And you could be topless?”

Chloé's smile showed her teeth. “I could be right now, if you want.”

“I have a weird belly button,” Adrien blurted, butting in.

There was a beat of silence.

Then, he buried his face in his hands and complained, “Forget I said that.”

Marinette was too busy laughing.

-x-

There was a logical way to decide who went on the runs.

It was volunteer only instead of forcing everyone to participate. With a game of rock paper scissors, Marinette was decided to be the winner alongside Adrien.

Chloé wasn't happy in the slightest.

“This is bullshit,” Chloé complained, emphasising that with a childish stomp of her foot.

Marinette put her hands on her shoulders and bluntly told her, “You're so shit at that game.”

Chloé glared at her. “Or you're too good.”

“You always do scissors,” she pointed out.

With a sniff, Chloé replied, “I'm a lesbian, it's my thing.”

Adrien laughed loudly at that.

“I'll find something lemon for you,” she offered, giving her a smile that reached her eyes. “And see if I can smuggle anything you'll like back.”

Chloé knocked her hands away, taking a step back as she said, “You better or I'm not letting you into bed with me.”

Marinette beamed. “It's a promise.”

Luka gave her another knife on her way past.

She wasn't going to reject that.

The drive as quiet.

There wasn't a lot to look at on the streets. Along with the overgrown grass and plants, there were some deserted vehicles that were left along the side with blood covering them, while the rotting bodies that were walking around or had their brain damaged and were decaying on the floor weren't anything special. It was common to see them wandering around.

It was more common to see the dead than a wild animal walking around.

Marinette wondered when the last time she saw a dog was.

It had been years.

“So,” she started, resting her head against the window, the cold of the glass keeping her alert. “How are you?”

“How am I?” he repeated, amused. “Good, I guess? I bumped into the table and hurt my knee today because I didn't want to waste a candle for some light.”

She snorted. “Tough luck.”

“Yeah, it was a little dumb,” he admitted with a laugh. “And you? How are you?”

“Eh.” Marinette shrugged. “As okay as I can be? It's not like it's a bad day today or anything. It's not raining, there's no snow yet that'll make my hands hurt.”

“Got gloves for that?” he asked.

“Lost 'em,” she said.

Adrien offered, “I think I have spare.”

She quietly asked, “You'd give them to me?”

“Why not?” he replied without hesitation. “You're nice. And you're—you're staying, right?”

“As long as you don't kick me out, yeah,” she answered.

“No one's proposed it since meeting you,” he confessed. “So, I think you're in the clear.”

She raised a fist in victory at that.

They found syrups in a coffee-shop. There were some carbonated drinks that were out of date but were probably fine to drink, and a few stale granola bars that would be fine. Marinette struck gold when she found more soap in the toilet that hadn't been collected. Whoever had come to loot the store before hadn't done a very thorough job.

Although the place had smashed windows and blood on the floor, there was a lot in the supply room still.

Adrien helped her carry it back, taking her lead on things.

She didn't have to tell him what to do much; instead, like with Nino, he was following closely and letting her enter the places first and do what she wanted. There was no argument about who would be in the right, no fighting that they were doing things wrong, and she was grateful for it.

It was strange not being out with Chloé, though.

When they went into a home and Adrien didn't know to check the rest of the rooms to see whether there was anyone in there with them, she was a little frustrated that he'd tried to go through to the kitchen first.

It was a wonder that he'd made it so far without being so cautious.

There was a moment where he got grabbed on the arm by a corpse because he wasn't paying attention.

Marinette reacted in time to stab it through the skull, applying enough force to the weakened bones to make it slash through.

It hurt her arm doing it.

Adrien was standing there, wide-eyed as the body crumpled and fell to the floor, decaying flesh no longer moving.

She shook her wrist, wincing. “Where's your knife?”

“I—” Adrien touched his belt where it was still attached. “I forgot.”

“Well, don't,” was her lame advice to that.

He was looking at her open-mouthed, similar to how Chloé had in the beginning.

Her face felt warm at that reminder.

It was when they were in the car driving back that he remarked, “You're good at this.”

Marinette made an inquisitive noise.

“This whole thing,” he said vaguely, gesturing out the window to their overgrown surroundings. “Nino said—he did say that you're good out there, but it didn't really click what he meant until today.”

Her response came out sounding like a question. “Thanks?”

“You could kick my ass and I'd thank you,” Adrien quipped.

She looked at him strangely. “But I have?”

“Oh,” he said, stumped. Then, he straightened up with a smile. “Thank you.”

“...You're welcome?” Marinette replied, terribly confused.

“I admit, you're a little terrifying,” he mused, smile showing his teeth as he glanced at her. “But you're pretty cool and it's great to know that Chloé's in good hands—not that she can't take care of herself! Please, don't tell her I said that. She'll punch me again.”

She had to ask, “You do know we're not dating, right?”

“Oh, you're married?” he questioned.

“No,” Marinette denied. “Neither of us have ever said we are.”

“A secret marriage,” he concluded.

“I meant,” she started, running her hands through her short hair. It was getting long enough to start to touch her eyelashes when she left it alone. “There's nothing romantic about our relationship.”

“You've lost your spark already?” Adrien questioned. “Because I'm not the person to talk to about that. I'm the only one that sleeps alone.”

“What?” Marinette spluttered. “Wait, are Luka and Nathaniel—”

He laughed. “No, but they share a room. I'm the one all on my lonesome.”

“Poor you,” she said.

There was something so familiar about the way he dramatically sniffed and stated, “I have to hug my pillow to try and feel loved.”

It was telling that she was comfortable enough to reach out and pat his shoulder. “I hug my pillow, too.”

“Now you're just rubbing it in,” he complained. “You have my perfectly good sister and you choose a _pillow_?”

“Adrien,” she said slowly, trying not to laugh. “I'm not dating your sister in any shape or form, nor are we married. We're friends.”

“You're supposed to date your best friend,” he pointed out.

She couldn't help but laugh at that one. “This misunderstanding is getting out of control.”

“You were the one sniffing lemon things to bring back to her!” he exclaimed. “What am I supposed to think?”

“That we're good friends?” she mused.

“Impossible, Chloé never had any friends,” he denied.

“Oh,” was all she could say to that.

There was a brief silence where neither of them said anything.

Then, Marinette's voice cracked as she asked, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Adrien confirmed, keeping his eyes on the road. “She—she's not the easiest to get along with, you know?”

“I definitely know,” she muttered. “But—none?”

“If you count me, one, I guess,” he replied with a shrug. “She tolerated Nino but would never spend any time with him one-on-one. Not unless they were planning something for me, but that always ended up with them arguing.”

She shifted in her seat. “Well, you can count me.”

His smile was as soft as his voice. “I guess I can.”

-x-

“I thought you two weren't dating,” Adrien remarked.

Marinette looked down to where she was holding Chloé's hand.

Then, she used her other to hold Adrien's from where he was sat beside her.

“Does this mean we're dating?” she questioned. “Because that's really fucking juvenile.”

“Well, no,” he stammered, not taking his hand away. “But if it does, you're awfully suave about two-timing right now.”

Chloé snorted. “I know I rank higher than you on the food chain.”

Adrien let out a laugh. “I'm food?”

“Well, I should hope there's _some_ eating in our relationship—”

Marinette shoved a hand over her mouth, demanding, “Shut up.”

Chloé waggled her eyebrows.

She pressed her hand in further, using the other one to try and cover Chloé's nose in an attempt to smother her to prevent her from saying anything else embarrassing. It wasn't always Adrien that was the target of her words, though it did make her wonder when Chloé had felt so comfortable to make fun of her in front of others.

They'd been there a couple of months at that point.

Marinette was trusted.

She and Chloé were no longer locked in the bedroom at night. And when it came to runs, she was the one that others referred to. Chloé was confident with her own skills, of course, but Marinette almost always found herself in the position of authority when she was outside.

The cans were set up around the house, a little safety net for if anyone managed to get through the fences.

It was unlikely, though.

After two years since the world had changed, it was rare to bump into other humans. After Adrien, she hadn't seen any on the road, nor had she seen any moving cars in the streets. There were always footprints that could've been corpses, though there was always the chance that it wasn't.

The mansion was safe.

It was Nathaniel's idea to raid a garden centre to see if anything was still there.

“I don't know if the seeds would still work,” he said with a shrug. “But—it's worth something, right?”

Marinette ended up putting tins around a scarecrow for decoration in the garden beside the communal pond where they bathed.

“He's my friend,” she insisted, adjusting the bowtie that was made out of straw on him. “It's like having a watch dog, right? I had one of those stuffed toys with a motion sensor when I was younger. It always barked and woke me up at night.”

Adrien whispered, “That's because you were haunted.”

“I can be haunted by this guy now,” she happily proclaimed, gesturing towards the scarecrow. “I'll call him... Albert.”

“Albert,” he repeated, dubious.

“It's a nice and respectable name,” she told him with a smile. “And that's exactly what he is.”

He solemnly said, “I think you've finally gone mad.”

“All right, belly button,” she muttered. “I'm the mad one, sure.”

He put a hand over his stomach. “You're not supposed to know that.”

She replied, “You literally told me.”

Adrien shifted on the spot. “And that was a mistake. Please, wipe that from your brain. I want to live in peace.”

“No, no,” Marinette said, shaking her head. “I know your secrets now.”

“I'll tell you a different secret,” he all but begged.

She laughed. “That's not how this works.”

“I'll support Albert,” he said, gesturing towards the scarecrow. “I'll be his second biggest fan after you. If Nino finds out about this, I'll _die_.”

“Wait, Nino doesn't know?” she asked incredulously, letting out a laugh. “You've—you've known him since before all _this_! How does he not?”

His ears turned red. “It was embarrassing.”

“Was?” she pestered. “Then, why won't you let me tell him now?”

“Fuck off,” Adrien retorted, narrowing his eyes for a moment before he went back to pleading to her. He went as far as to clasp his hands together and hold them in front of his chest, looking at her with wide eyes. “I'll be your best friend if you promise not to reveal my secrets.”

“It feels like you're trying to blackmail me,” she remarked.

He snorted. “That's not how blackmail works. You're the one with information against _me_.”

“Oh, in that case—”

“I found a picture of Chloé!” he exclaimed.

Marinette blinked. “What?”

“In a bikini,” he clarified.

She stared. “I'm not gay.”

“So?” he shot back. “It's from one of her last shoots and she _hated_ it. You can show it to her and see her get all red.”

“...That does sounding tempting,” she eventually gave in.

“Cool.” Adrien beamed, holding out his hand for her to shake. “Have we got a deal?”

“You have a perfectly normal body,” she assured him, taking his hand.

He laughed loudly.

It probably wasn't the best thing to do when they were outside.

The bushes beside the fence rustled.

Adrien's expression when she used her knife to stab through the corpse's eye was still one of awe.

-x-

He'd started to stare at her a lot.

Marinette wasn't oblivious to that, at least.

It didn't matter when it was; if she turned her head and saw that Adrien was looking her way, he'd quickly turn away and avoid eye contact, pretending that nothing had happened. And after he'd been caught, he took a while to come over and strike up a conversation with her, never bringing it up.

She didn't know how to deal with it.

So, she didn't.

Chloé was horrified with the revelation.

“That's _disgusting_ ,” Chloé complained as they were in their bedroom. “You need to—I don't know, kick him and tell him to piss off.”

“It's not like he's doing anything wrong,” she pointed out. “It's not harming anyone.”

Chloe sniffed. “He's harming me.”

“No, he's not,” she denied. “You just don't want to share me.”

“That's besides the point,” Chloé retorted, reaching out and flicking the end of her nose. “I refuse to be second best to anyone. And if he thinks he's going to steal you away from mooning over you, he's delusional.”

She laughed, slapping Chloé's hands away. “It's not a competition.”

“It is,” Chloé insisted. “For who you share a bed with.”

Marinette tried to keep her face serious. “That's all I am to you?”

“You're my bedwarmer,” Chloé deadpanned. “What more do you want from me?”

“Well, a bit of love and affection would be nice,” she said, crossing her arms moodily. “I'm touch-starved _and_ neglected. If you're going to be mean to me, there's someone else that'll give me the attention—”

“He's hopeless,” Chloé interrupted, scowling. “He gets crushes from the stupidest little things. Give it a few weeks and he'll get over it.”

She echoed, “Crush?”

“What, did you just think he thinks you're pretty?” Chloé questioned with a laugh. “You look like shit, Mari.”

“You're so _nice_.”

Chloé shrugged. “I'm telling you how it is.”

“I'm so lucky to have you,” she muttered sarcastically.

And yet, it didn't change with the upcoming weeks. Adrien continued to sneak glances at her, his ears turning red when she noticed him and made it obvious that she'd caught him, and he didn't try to hide his excitement when they both won at rock paper scissors to go out on a run together.

She was comfortable with him at that point. He'd developed into being more than Chloé's brother; he was someone that liked to joke around and lighten the mood instead of dwelling on the sadness of it all, and she could rely on him to make her smile when he rambled on about anything and everything.

Adrien liked to talk and Marinette liked to listen.

He was passionate about the strangest things; his sister, his love of cats, and _Lego_.

It made sense why Chloé had liked building blocks so much if he used to build them in his free time, splurging his money on different sets that were far too expensive for the normal kid.

He wasn't an extension of his sister. Adrien was soft with his words compared to Chloé and he opened up and was friendly to everyone that he'd met so far in an apocalypse, if his story about talking muggers down from stealing their belongings was real.

Marinette was almost willing to believe it from how charming he could be.

Adrien managed to haggle and trade one of his energy bars with Nathaniel because he wanted to give Chloé something sweet to eat.

Chloé hugged him tight enough for him to wheeze.

When it came time for them to travel out together, the silence between them was comfortable. Adrien spoke every now and then, asking her for directions on the map for the next neighbourhood that they were going to scope out, and she responded by being terribly confused and giving the worst directions.

He laughed at her for that.

Marinette's face felt hot. “We all have weaknesses, okay.”

“And yours is maps,” he mused. “I wasn't expecting that.”

“Chloé's is numbers,” she muttered. “And you with your belly-button.”

He made an offended noise. “You promised!”

“I didn't say anything,” she said, extending the words out like she was singing. “You're imagining it. The outside will do some good for you, Adrien. You're clearly going stir-crazy.”

He huffed. “Sure.”

“I'm very sure,” she told him, reaching out and patting his arm.

The car jerked to the side from him being startled.

Adrien ignored that that had happened, clearing his throat before turning the car to get back onto the right side of the road. “What makes you an expert on that? I'm not hearing voices.”

“You're hearing my voice because you like me,” she teased.

He choked out a laugh. And when he spoke, his voice was high-pitched. “What?”

“And I was a therapist,” she proclaimed.

Adrien squinted at her. “No.”

She raised her eyebrows. “No?”

“Chloé already told me that you won't say what you did,” he replied, suspicious. “I'm not trusting anything from you. You're a liar.”

She muttered, “It's like you know me so well already.”

Adrien only stopped looking at her in suspicion when he had to pay attention to the road.

While it wasn't other moving cars that they had to look out for, there were a lot of trees that had fallen because of the weather that couldn't be removed by services any more because of the state of everything, along with corpses and forgotten vehicles that had run out of petrol abandoned in the middle of the street sometimes.

After a brief silence, Marinette murmured, “It wouldn't change anything.”

“Eh?” he questioned.

“Knowing what I did,” she replied, resting her arm against the window and trying to get comfortable. He wasn't speeding and causing her to be jostled too much. “I wasn't some rich kid like either of you.”

All he said in response to that was, “So?”

“So?” she echoed. “I—what?”

“You think Chloé wants to know how much money you had?” he questioned, incredulous. “She—I'm not kidding when I say you're the only person other than me that she's been close to before. I mean, she had some people she'd hang out with at clubs and shit, but that never—she was _never_ as touchy-feely as she is with you.”

Marinette tutted. “We're all touchy-feely now.”

“That's not my point—”

“I get it, I'm just awkward,” she blurted to interrupt him. “She's just—she's never guessed it because it's so... boring.”

“Boring,” he repeated, dubious. “Seriously, Chloé won't care. Yeah, she'll make fun of you for a bit, but she'd do that for _anything_.”

She shrugged.

He sounded a bit strangled as he said, “Even if you were a pornstar.”

Marinette snorted. “She's guessed that.”

Adrien laughed loudly.

Their raiding was somewhat successful that time. There were more than a few tins of food left that were still in date, some that were out but were still edible, and Marinette cackled in joy when she found someone's wardrobe that was still in tact.

Adrien was bemused by the clothes that she crumpled up and took back to the car.

“We've got better ones for the weather,” he tried to tell her.

“It's about making a statement,” she insisted, throwing them into the backseat.

He didn't scold her.

Marinette seemed to be the one to call the shots, after all. Adrien could stab a corpse when it came to it, but he panicked and flailed, not keeping a cool head and ended up fumbling his grip on the knife sometimes. It was a wonder how he'd made it so far, but the countryside was a lot less populated than the cities.

It was best to never venture that far.

When they'd buckled into their seats and gotten ready to return with the sun starting to set, Adrien cleared his throat.

“Yes?” she asked.

“I—I got you something,” he stuttered out, reaching into his pocket to clasp something in his hand. “I hope you like it.”

She smiled, bemused. “For me?”

“I found it in one of the rooms,” he admitted, not showing her what it was yet. “It—it made me realise that I don't actually know what you like? But I do know what you like to do.”

“You're talking in riddles,” she pointed out, holding her hand out, palm up. “And you know how bad I am at puzzles.”

There was colour to his cheeks as he gave her her gift.

It was a few candies, the flavour obvious by the yellow wrapping around them.

“Lemon,” she remarked.

He touched the back of his neck. “Because you—you like to give things to Chloé.”

She made a noise of amusement. “Okay, I can't deny that.”

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“Thank you,” she answered, wriggling to stuff them into her pocket for later. “And for the record, I'm not a picky eater. I'll eat almost anything you give me, but I do like sweet things.”

Adrien smiled. “I'll remember that.”

“I used to have free access to syrups at work for my drinks,” she confessed, her tone almost wistful. “But I only had one a day or I would've had a sugar rush and babbled to all the customers that came in.”

He didn't take long to respond. “I think it takes patience to interact with people all day.”

Marinette laughed. “Sure, that's one thing.”

“And dealing with people like Chloé ordering complicated drinks,” he added on, studying her face for her reaction.

Rather than agree that he'd guessed right, she asked, “Not you?”

“Me?” he questioned.

“You weren't the one ordering something complicated?” she asked, adjusting the seatbelt over her chest. “But I guess a model that keeps his shirt on doesn't have to worry that much—”

Adrien tried to look offended, but his smile ruined it.

The drive back had more talking than when they left. Marinette laughed until her cheeks hurt, getting comfortable and tucking her feet underneath her and getting dirt all over the seat, but there wasn't much to complain about when the rest of the car was in the same condition.

Chloé was horrified at the short-sleeved shirt she'd brought back.

It was only when she showed the candies that Chloé agreed to wear it, just so she'd be able to eat them.

Adrien's expression when he saw his sister wearing such atrocious clothing later on that evening made her laugh even harder.

And it was with that understanding that she'd lugged all that bright clothing back for a joke that had Adrien smiling at her a lot, purposely complimenting Chloé on how they didn't suit her skin tone.

It was one of many inside jokes that they'd acquired.

The feeling of having something between them that they could snicker about when they were alone was refreshing. It was childish and a good break from worrying about every little thing—Marinette much preferred to notice when his smile reached his eyes, and that his eyelashes had blond on the end of them when he got too close.

It was the little details that made living worth it.

And there was the trend of Adrien starting to give her things; from the candies in the car, to other sweets he'd picked up or haggled with the others for, he'd always come to her and offer them out of nowhere.

Marinette was starting to feel a little bad that she didn't have anything for him.

“Here,” Adrien started one day, holding out his hand that had a bundle of black in it. “I promised you this a while ago.”

Sleepily, she rubbed her eye with one hand before taking the fabric, realising that it was a pair of gloves. Surprisingly, they were in good condition and didn't smell too bad. There wasn't any crusted blood on them, nor was the dirt out of control. It was cleaner than a good half of the clothes that she'd worn the past few months.

“I forgot about this,” she murmured, voice still thick with sleep from where she'd dozed off on the sofa. “Thanks, dude.”

Adrien shifted on the spot. “It's nothing.”

There wasn't anything on her at that moment that she could give to him.

“Sit down,” she said, patting the sofa beside her. “No point standing there awkwardly to talk when you could warm me up instead.”

“Warm—warm you up?” he choked out, startled.

She patted the sofa again.

He got the message, gingerly sitting down beside her, enough distance between them so their legs weren't touching. If it had been Chloé, or even Luka or Alya at that point, they would've gotten her hint immediately and tried to save her from the cold.

She shuffled along until they were touching, pulling the blanket up and offering for him to come under it with her.

Adrien accepted it, holding the fabric as she slipped the gloves on, flexing her fingers in admiration from how soft it felt.

“I—what's going on?” he questioned.

“Nothing,” she replied, getting comfortable and resting her head on his shoulder. It was hard not to laugh as he stiffened from being touched. “There's nothing to do and I get sleepy when I'm bored.”

“That's why everyone left you alone?” Adrien asked, gesturing with his chin to the empty room around them.

Marinette shrugged. “Dunno, I was asleep.”

He sounded guilty as he questioned, “Did I wake you up?”

“Maybe?” she said, closing her eyes as she shifted to be in a better position against him. “I think it was the creaking of the stairs? Whatever it was, it saved me from having you watch me sleep.”

“I wouldn't _watch—_ ”

“Chloé caught you before,” she pointed out, sure her smile was audible in her voice. “And a few times before that. I know you like looking at me, Adrien, but there are limits.”

He didn't reply to that.

And as she heard him breathing, she wondered whether she teased him too much.

It was him that spoke first, ever-so-softly. “I do like looking at you.”

She hummed.

“But it's—I'm not just looking because you're a girl,” he blabbered, talking quickly. “If that was the case, I would've been doing it all along, you know? I hope you know that. I'm not, like, trying to be a creep or anything. I don't think anyone would try and be _that_.”

“I don't think you're a creep, Adrien,” she assured him.

She could feel it as he relaxed against her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “You're pretty cool. I've accepted that you're kind of an idiot, but that's fine.”

He laughed. “Only kind of?”

“Okay, you're a big idiot,” she amended, letting out a breath of amusement. “But we all are?”

Quietly, he asked, “Is it wrong of me to be glad that you're not dating Chloé?”

“You all jumped to that conclusion without good evidence,” she chastised. “And of course you should be glad. According to Chloé, she's too good for me.”

He snorted. “She thinks she's too good for everyone.”

“True, true,” Marinette agreed. “Your attitude isn't like that, is it?”

“I'm the humble one of us two,” he proclaimed. “So, yes. I'm exactly like her.”

She laughed.

There was barely any hesitation as he said, “I like you.”

Marinette didn't open her eyes to see his expression. “Yeah?”

“In a romantic way, before you ask what I mean with that,” he added on, sounding a bit embarrassed as he shifted, almost jostling her off of him. “Can I—is it okay if I put my arm around you?”

“I have been leaning on you for, like, ten minutes, but okay,” she replied, moving to allow him to loop his arm around the back of her, loosely resting his hand on her waist. “It took you a while to get the hint.”

His voice was a bit high-pitched. “Hint?”

“I like touching,” she pointed out. “That should be obvious from how I am with Chloé.”

“I—yes,” he stuttered out. “But I'm... me.”

“Good observation,” she murmured.

Adrien let out a laugh. “I'm serious, I didn't think you'd... want to do this with me.”

“What, cuddle?” Marinette questioned, a bit surprised. “I literally invited you under my blanket.”

“It's a nice blanket,” he complimented.

“Thank you,” she replied. “You gave it to me.”

“...Oh,” he whispered.

And with that, he fell silent.

It was such a strange situation.

Marinette smiled against his shoulder. “You're not expecting us to get married out of nowhere, are you?”

“Not unless you're pregnant,” he quipped.

“Well, that might take a little more than sharing a blanket,” she teased, finally opening her eyes and squinting from the sudden light. It didn't give the alluring look she'd been trying to go for as she glanced up at him. “Sure you're up for that?”

“I—what?” he stuttered.

“Or are you more of a not kissing until the third date kind of guy?” she questioned. “Because that might be a bit hard nowadays. Not really a lot of choice on where to go.”

“Hang on,” Adrien blurted, looking at her with wide eyes. “What—”

“I like you, too,” she clarified, smile reaching her eyes. “Isn't that obvious?”

“No,” he replied. “No, not really.”

She gestured with a tilt of her head. “We're sharing a blanket.”

“That could mean a lot of things,” he defended.

“Oh, right,” Marinette said, smile widening. “I need to speak your language, don't I?”

And as she took his hand into hers, Adrien asked, “What?”

She linked their fingers together. “This means we're dating, right?”

He blinked. “Says who?”

“You,” she reminded him with a laugh.

Adrien slowly told her, “This is a very sudden development and I think I might be asleep.”

That had her laughing again. “Really?”

His ears were red. “I just wanted to give you the gloves.”

“Well, now I'm holding your hand while wearing them,” she said, emphasising that by squeezing his hand. “That's not a bad thing, is it?”

He breathed out audibly. “No.”

Confidently, Marinette leaned forward and enquired, “And if I asked to kiss you?”

“I might explode,” he blurted.

“Save that for the wedding night, dude,” she joked.

Adrien made a choked noise.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com) (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑♥


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